Saving Wilde
by easyodds2
Summary: Nicholas Wilde is his own worst enemy. A successful international spy, his own discontent has doomed him. He is brought back from the brink by a simple farm bunny with big dreams. But the world is dangerous place and Nick is a dangerous fox, and our simple bunny will find herself embroiled in a world she never bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

Judy Hopps awoke from her bed with a start.

Something was wrong, she just knew it.

She checked her clock. _Oh sweet cheese and crackers, it's 7:30! What happened to my alarm?! Why didn't anyone wake me?!_ She panicked. She had never been late, not for anything, and especially not for the season opening of the Hopps family roadside farm stand. Not longer just a dinky stand, it had grown so popular over the previous years that it was all hands on deck for the first month or so after opening. Judy flew from her bed, flipped on the lights, and frantically got herself ready for the day, tearing clothes from her closet, trying in vain to pick something appropriate for the day ahead.

 _Wait!_ She had laid out her outfit for the day the night before! She kicked herself for losing her head. This was not a good way to start out the day, she just needed to calm down. She was already late, there was no reason to make matters worse by ruining her room in her haste. Taking a moment to collect herself she went through her morning mental checklist:

Get up and stretch: partially completed, not stretching this morning.

2\. Shower…

She contemplated her door. By this time of the day the bathroom closest to her room, and the one after that, would be totally packed with her siblings. She would have to wait ages to shower, and good luck with the hot water. She was normally up no later than 5am, so she never had to worry about it. But now? _No, that won't work_. She shook her head. Showering in the morning was one of her favorite parts of the day. It was just about the only 10 minutes during her day when she could just stop and not have to worry about her family, the farm, or anything. Those 10 blissful minutes under a stream of hot water helped her get through each busy day on the Hopps family farm. To miss it would be… problematic. But there was no choice, she had to get going.

She grabbed the outfit she had laid out and began to get dressed while continuing to go through her morning list.

3\. Wake up the rest of the wing?

 _Too late for that._

4\. Help mother with breakfast?

 _Ditto_

5\. Be at the stand by 7?

 _Hah!_

She sighed, there was nothing that could be done, spilt carrot juice and all that. The only course at this point was to move forward with the rest of her day. Hopefully, if she worked extra hard, which of course she would because she had to make up for this initial transgression, the day would end better than it began, and certainly better than the previous day.

With that thought in mind she marched towards her door mentally steeling herself against the chaos beyond. Pausing once more before it, she checked her morning list one more time and finding it as complete as it would ever be. She opened the door, ready for anything.

Ready for everything, except what she found.

The hallway was dark, the burrow silent. There was no activity outside her room at all, it was like everyone was still asleep. Judy stood there in shock, ears flicking back and forth, trying in vain to detect some activity. There must have been some mistake. It was _7:30 in the morning_! There was no way she was the only one up, and there was no way everyone had left the house, certainly not without her, at least. What was going on?

She looked back over her shoulder at the window above her bed, it was dark out. The moon casting a weak light across the landscape. That it was dark out was not unusual. Waking up before 5 meant that she was usually getting up while it was dark, but it just seemed as if it was _too_ dark. Even at the beginning of April the sun would certainly be out by 7:30am. She turned back into her room and slowly approached her window, climbing back on her bed so she could press her face right up against the round glass. _Dark. Too dark. Way too dark._ She sat back on her haunches confused and asked herself the same question she had asked herself probably a dozen times in the last minute. _What is going on here?_ She glanced at her clock and then back out the window, still confused. Suddenly she snapped back to the clock, eyes wide in confusion. It read 2:41am.

Judy was dumbfounded. She had checked the clock twice, no _three times_ when she had awoken! How had she read 7:30 on the display? How?! She let out a groan.

 _Great way to start your day Judy. Just great._

It was overwhelming. She had already been sleeping poorly that night, going to bed in her state had not been good for her rest, and now she had worked herself into a frenzy thinking she had been late. It was all just too much, and she felt the tears begin to build in her eyes. _No, I won't cry, not today, I did enough of that yesterday._ She had gone to bed angry and emotionally drained, something she noted to herself, she would never do again if she could help it. She had slept fitfully as a result and her restless night had culminated in this little scene. And now on top of being exhausted her nerves were totally frayed. And she still had the rest of the day to look forward to.

With a sigh of frustration she cradled her head in her paws, pressing them against her eyes in an attempt to stop the trickle of tears that were coming in spite of everything she could do. This wasn't like her. She had always been so composed. Sure of herself, and sure of what she wanted. She was never the one to be so emotional, so quick to fly off the handle. But ever since returning from school, she was becoming just that. Her confidence in herself and her drive for more was slowly being sapped by this place, by this life. She was becoming complacent. She was " _settling"_ , as her parents had put it so many years ago. She was settling, and she hated herself for it. That was why she couldn't sleep, and that was why she had gotten into a shouting match with her parents the previous night. They wanted what was best for her of course, but what they thought was best for her was not what she thought it was. And ever since she had returned from school the resentment had built. Her dream since she had been little was to live in Zootopia and become a police bunny. The first one too. She was well aware of the challenge that would be. Bunnies simply weren't an imposing presence to anyone but rodents, and only then because the rodents might find themselves crushed if they weren't careful. She understood she would never be as strong as other animals on the force, probably not as fast either, but she knew that she was just as smart as any animal in the ZPD. Her scores on the practice aptitude exams she had taken were a testament to that. And she figured that on the police force brains were at least as important as brawn.

But her parents didn't see it that way, her father especially. He was dead set against her joining the police force. He had plenty of reasons:

"Oh, we need you here on the farm. Who would run the stand without you? Zootopia is a dangerous place for little bunnies like us.

No one would take a bunny cop seriously."

She winced upon coming to the last one. In the past, when she had brought up signing on to the force it had usually turned into an argument. Not a stand up knock down fight like last night's argument had been, but an argument nonetheless. Her father would bring up the farm, her family, her friends, etc. And her mother would talk about how dangerous it was to be a cop, and how much they would worry. Those conversations had always been frustrating, but at least her parents had never tried to dissuade her of the notion entirely. Last night though had been different. Last night, and she suspected it was for the first time, her father had been honest about just what he thought of her dream. He told her she would be a laughing stock, that no one would take her seriously, that she would never be a good officer. Tempers had been flaring already, Judy was chafing in this lifestyle, but that comment had sent things tumbling over the edge. Half the burrow could hear the shouting, though no one dared intervene.

Those sorts of comments were not new to her. She had heard their like from many mammals. Many of her friends from college had voiced similar opinions at one point or another. Those comments had hurt of course, how could they not? But at the same time it was those sorts of prejudices that had fueled her. She wanted to show the world, and herself, that she could be anything she wanted, regardless of her species. To hear those same things from her father though, was a different thing entirely. Her relationship with her father had always been very good. He had always been supportive of her interests in the past, and she had grown up somewhat of a daddy's girl. He was even the one that had talked Judy's mother into allowing her to go away to college. So for him to have so little faith in her abilities was something she wasn't prepared for. It had sent her reeling. It was as if her very foundation had been torn out from beneath her. The one thing that had kept her going even in the worst of times, the love and support of her parents, suddenly ripped away without warning. She felt they had betrayed her in a way that no one else could have. Who was left to believe in her if her parents didn't?

Maybe she should have just gone and signed up regardless of what her parents thought. No, despite the fight the previous night, Judy's one pillar of support in the whole world remained her family, and she didn't want to damage it any further by going against their express wishes.

The tears were coming, in spite of her efforts, and she grit her teeth in defiance. But the effort became too great. She sat and sobbed, finally allowing the roaring torrent of emotions welling up inside her take over once again. It just wasn't how things were supposed to turn out for her, but she was slowly coming to accept the reality of it. This was her life now. She was trapped. She would get up in a few hours and begin the rest of her life, as a farmer. And she would be nothing more than a bunny, just like so many before her. The thought made her sick, but she was at a loss as to how to change anything.

In between her sobs, she glanced at the clock, 3:11. She needed to get some rest. The worst thing she could do was go on for the rest of the day both physically and emotionally exhausted. She hadn't slept well, but perhaps the following 2 hours would better. She certainly hoped so. The day would be hell enough without her only getting a couple of hours of sleep.

She got off her bed and walked over to the light switch. Before turning out the lights she swept her gaze around her room, and took in all the history it contained. Everything about the room said one thing: you are destined for something bigger than this. The thought was a comforting one, and her spirits lifted ever so slightly. The tears slowed and then stopped. This wasn't like her. It never had been. She was stronger than this, better than this. She had overcome so much adversity in her life already. Fought so hard to prove to the world that she was capable. That she shouldn't be overlooked. She had graduated amongst the top of her class in college, participated in student government, had been a Resident Assistant. She had done everything right. If she was just going to give up now why had she bothered to expend so much effort in the first place? Because she was goddamned Judy Hopps, that's why! She was angry now, almost shaking, and she raged against the injustice of it all. She was not just some dumb, flighty bunny. She was going to take this new challenge head on. She was sick and tired of waiting around for her parents to change their minds, she was going to make them change. That was undoubtedly the tallest and most daunting obstacle she had ever set herself against. But she owed it to herself and everyone who had helped her get to this point, even her parents, to keep on fighting.

She walked over to her desk and grabbed pen and paper. She had always been one to create lists, goals, checklists, to-do lists, etc. They helped her get to keep track of her life and plan for the future. It was now time to create a new list she decided, and she took to the task with an intensity that she would have been totally incapable of just moments ago. First thing was to convince her parents of course. No easy task but after last night she wasn't going to let this go. She was going to make it happen. Next was to join the ZPD. And then…? She wasn't sure but what she had seemed like a good start. She finished writing and took a step back. The list only contained two vague items and she felt a little silly that that is all she had been able to produce. Especially after charging into her list making with such vigor. She glanced at the clock, it was 3:17. She let out a chagrined sigh. _Well Judy I suppose I can forgive you for your poor showing on account of it being way too early in the morning._ Nevertheless she was proud of herself. This was who she was, not the sobbing wreck that had just been sitting on the bed. She smiled as she turned off the light and crawled back into bed.

Things were going to get better, she just knew it.

* * *

This was going to end badly, he just knew it.

This part of the job was the culmination of months of effort. Tracking, bribing, _convincing_ … this job had dragged him around the world and everything had gone so smoothly. He had covered his tracks, eliminated those with less than impeccable discretion, crossed his T's and dotted his I's. There should be nothing to worry about, and yet, as Nick Wilde approached the arranged meeting place on a dark and overcast night, he couldn't help but feel as if he had missed something, something obvious. And that feeling filled him with dread.

He was doomed, he just knew it.

 _God, when did I become so cynical?_ He thought to himself as he pulled into the empty lot beside the location given to him by his informant. A large and apparently abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the Zootopia docks, right on the water; a perfect location for him to disappear and never been seen again...

 _Stop it, this will go fine. These mammals haven't demonstrated even a modicum of competence thus far, and I doubt they will have figured me out now._

Still he had always been a careful one, and he had come prepared in case things didn't go as planned. He had spent much of this job unarmed. When infiltrating a hostile organization it was best to be as unthreatening as possible **,** but this time he had concealed his service pistol in a special waistband holster at his back. As he climbed from his car he unconsciously fingered the weapon, and its continued presence was at least somewhat reassuring. His little pistol wouldn't save him if Koslov's goons were even moderately well armed… but then there wasn't much he could do about that, was there? No, he decided, there wasn't, and now his reluctance to get on with it was wasting time.

He collected himself and stepped from his car, attempting to look as casual as possible. His innate confidence had borne him through situations far more dangerous than this and he would be a fool to allow his fears to dampen it. With that in mind he strolled deliberately to the entrance prescribed in the note he received, a small service door on the north side if the building. When he reached the door he paused momentarily before grasping the handle. _What the hell am I doing here? Waltzing into this damn place with nothing but a tip from an informant I hardly know. This is how mammals die._ No, there was no choice, he was there, and the thing he needed to put this job behind him should be there as well. He just needed a bit of luck, and Koslov would be none the wiser. Steeling himself for what might come he reached out to grasp the door handle, half expecting it to explode the moment he touched it, and tried the door. Locked, of course. With a sigh Nick crouched down and began picking the lock, listening intently for the click of each tumbler. With a distinct *click* the lock finally gave way and Nick turned the handle and opened the door, slipping quietly into the darkness beyond.

The inside of the warehouse was blessedly quiet, without power there would be no alarms, and the Zootopia Power Authority hadn't supplied this block, or any of the blocks surrounding it, with power in more than 3 years. Nick gave himself a moment for his vision to adjust to the darkness, his natural night vision easily compensating for the lack of light, before carefully proceeding down the hallway he had just entered. The area looked as though it had once been the office. The previous occupants had done a poor job of the cleaning the place out, and as he passed each door on either side of the hallway he noticed old office equipment collecting dust. Paper was everywhere, as if the place had been ransacked, and he found himself stepping over computer monitors, three ring binders and file cabinet drawers , before finally reaching the end of the hallway. Upon the door was a message in spray paint probably applied by whichever kids had torn the office space apart. It read simply: "wild times ahead". Nick couldn't help but chuckle, they didn't know the half of it.

Leaving the office space Nick found himself in the massive open floor of the warehouse. It wasn't nearly as dark as it was before, broken skylights in roof allowed what little moonlight that made it through the clouds to filter into the large open space, and from where he stood Nick could see what he was looking for. In the center of the floor, perhaps 300 meters away, was a semi truck and trailer without any markings. A well maintained truck, in distinct contrast with its surroundings.

 _Perhaps this won't be so bad after all,_ Nick thought _, of course I say that now… It's no good to count your geese before they lay their eggs Nick._ He realized that that wasn't quite the epigram he he had wished, but he didn't dwell on it, it was time to get this over with. And with that Nick picked his way cautiously to the center of the warehouse.

The truck was like any other, no defining characteristics to set it apart. No personal flairs added by the driver, no writing on the sides except those required by the Department of Motor Vehicles, nothing to make it stand out, perfect for Koslov's purposes. And what were those purposes exactly? Koslov was the head of what was by a wide margin the largest organized crime syndicate in all of Zootopia, he had his paws in everything and there were even rumors that he had the ear of the mayor, and perhaps even members of parliament. Normally someone like Koslov would have been well below Nick's radar, local mob bosses were rarely players in international espionage, but 3 years ago Nick's agency had noticed some unusual communications emanating from the Arctica's MSS, or Ministry of State Security, and upon decryption it was discovered they were a series of messages back and forth between Koslov and someone in the employ of Sergey Bearyov, the head of the MSS. That revelation had sent shockwaves throughout the Zootopian intelligence community. It was clear that these messages had been going back and forth for quite some time and yet they had only been able to crack some of the oldest. In response Nick's department head had sent him to Arctica to revitalize operations there and infiltrate the MSS. In his two years as the section chief in Artica he had been very successful. There was still much work to be done of course, there always was, but his time in Arctica had been extremely productive. He had a knack for managing those sorts of things, but what he had learned in his time overseas had been even more troubling than the discovery of the messages to Koslov. The ZIA, and indeed the Zootopian government, had been thoroughly infiltrated by the MSS and had been for some time. He was able to identify a few of the "moles" from his position in Arctica, but he was forced to watch from afar as the once seemingly tight knit intelligence community of the ZIA tore itself apart with suspicion and distrust.

As things started to deteriorate he had been recalled. His department head feeling he was more useful at home than thousands of kilometers away. But he found that even he had been affected by the pervading atmosphere. Finding himself less and less willing to delegate to his subordinates lest they compromise the last three years of his work. And that is how he found himself here in this death trap standing in front of the doors of a semi trailer, risking his life over one of the small players in this grand game.

As Nick stood there the general feeling that he had missed something finally began to take definite shape in his mind. It was something about the message he had received from his eager little helper. It had been handwritten, not unusual, this particular informant, Nick was still struggling to remember his name, had often sent his reports that way. No that wasn't it. It was something about the writing itself. Wait... _Damn_ he should have realized it sooner, the note had looked rushed, or perhaps forced? As if the writer had been pressing the pencil too hard into the paper, and it had left the note smudged and difficult to read. Not at all like the mammal's usually delicate paw-writing. How had he missed that? True, he had been extremely busy since he had returned to Zootopia, overworked even, but to miss something so obvious? Perhaps he was allowing his contempt for Koslov's organization get the better of him. Koslov was a mere amateur playing a dangerous game with giants, and the way Nick had been able to so easily sink his claws into the boss's business had been indicative of that. But even amateurs have their moments and Nick realized that his disregard for Koslov's abilities had caused him to make the sort of mistake he would have expected from an agent out on his first job. His informant had been compromised. The dumb bastard had let himself get caught and he was now dragging Nick down with him.

 _Oh thats right, his code name was Christmas. Well merry christmas to you too you fucking hamster. If I get out of this I'll remember to send you a card._

Nick knew right then that the best course of action was to simply turn around and walk away. There would be other times in which he could pin Koslov, though given who Koslov was he wasn't sure he cared. Yes, the best thing to do now was to leave, reassess and come at it again from another angle. Draw his hand out from the trap before it got bitten off. _But… wait… what is that?_ The fur on the back of his neck bristled as he sniffed the air. _Is that… blood?_ Now all his senses were going on overdrive. Ears flicking back and forth trying to detect the slightest disturbance, nose still testing the air. He slowly withdrew his pistol if only because the weight in his hand was comforting. The smell, and blood was certainly what he was smelling he decided, was emanating from the trailer. It was bad. All his professional instincts told him one thing: _run_. Nothing good would come of him opening that trailer. But his natural instincts, intense curiosity being a trait all foxes shared, were screaming at him to open it, and they were winning. If he just took a peek inside and then skedaddled he would be fine, right? Yeah, right. And so it was for the second time that night that Nick reached out to open a door he fully expected to explode the moment he touched it.

But it didn't explode. It did nothing. As Nick stood there expectantly with his paw on the cool handle he began to feel silly. _Just open the door, and you can be on your way._ _That's all you gotta do_. Finally, he raised the handle as slowly as he could. It didn't help though, the metallic clanking of the latch still seemed to reverberate throughout the open warehouse. With the latch released he twisted the handle and the door popped open and stood just slightly ajar. Even with the door just barely open, the smell of blood was overwhelming, the air thick with the stench, and Nick half expected to find himself staring into a charnel house once he had the thing open. _What was that saying?_ He thought. _Ah yes "curiosity killed the cat." Well I am not a cat, and Koslov won't be killing me._ For what it was worth, the thought gave him the courage he needed to soldier onwards. He slowly swung open the door. What he saw inside made his breath catch in his throat.

The opening door had triggered some switch and as it swung open Nick heard an electric crack, followed by the inside of the trailer lighting up in a red and green glow. The inside of the trailer had been strung end to end in christmas lights, and from the ceiling were hung ornaments of all sorts. And the smell, oh god the smell, the whole thing reeked of blood. Nick realized there was blood everywhere, on the floor, on the walls, the ceiling, everywhere. It took Nick only a moment to notice the centerpiece of this gruesome display. At the very center of the trailer hung Christmas the hamster, a noose around his neck, wrapped in christmas lights. His body was mutilated almost beyond recognition. Only his face was left untouched, his eyes staring out into oblivion.

 _How the hell had that little guy held so much blood?_ He checked the thought. The hamster had died horribly because of Nick, the least he could do was not make light of his untimely end. And that is when he noticed the message painted at the very back of the trailer:

Wild Times Are At An End

 _And THAT is my cue to leave!_

His better judgement finally getting the best of him, Nick quickly turned around and began to hurry back the way he came. He had taken but a few steps when he heard the crackling of a loudspeaker.

"Rickyyy!"

 _Oh, fuck._

"It's such a pleasure to find you here Ricky, I was worried you would not come. Did you like my little display?"

 _No, not at all._

"It was a such a shame that Mr. Hamtaro had to die. He was quite useful in his own way, but that is what happens when someone crosses me Ricky. Necessary wouldn't you agree?"

 _Again, no._

"Come Ricky, there is no reason to be alarmed, your death won't be so bad. You were one of the most effective employees I had had in years. Business just won't be the same without you, and I thought that in light of that I should give you a spectacular send off!"

"Oh, and what's that Koslov?" asked Nick, somehow managing to sound collected, almost bored.

"Ah, he speaks! It is good to hear your voice Ricky. Now I know it is you and not some other poor fool caught in my trap."

 _What? He wasn't sure it was me?_ He glanced around, he didn't see any cameras, not that that meant they weren't there. But for some reason he just knew they weren't, this was Koslov after all. _You fucking amateur._ A grin spread across his face, there was a way out of this, even now.

"Look around you Ricky, notice all the crates? 4500 kilograms of explosives, all throughout the warehouse. All I must do is press my little button and I will start the greatest firework show Zootopia has ever seen!"

 _How on earth did he get that much?_ He looked around in bewilderment. The crates were everywhere, stacked in piles three or four high. He momentarily wondered how he had missed that too, but realized that it was unlikely he would have found what he wasn't looking for. _Let's stop looking for more things to beat yourself up over, eh Nick?_ Still, why was Koslov waiting? It's like he was begging Nick to make his escape. Seizing the moment, Nick frantically wracked his brain for a way out of this mess. If he wanted to survive he'd need to take action now. _The water…_ He suddenly realized had to get to the water, the force from an explosion doesn't travel well in water. He seemed to remember that a 115 kilogram depth charge, like the kind used during the wars all those years ago, had only a 15 meter effective range. The water was his only salvation, and he began to run towards the southern end of the building.

"I could just press this button now Ricky, but I won't, not yet. I still need something from you

Ricky: Ricky, I wish for you to tell me who you are working for."

A wave of confusion followed by relief rolled over Nick. _What? He has no leverage. How the hell did this polar bear become the biggest mob boss in Zootopia? And how the hell did I get caught in his trap?_ He took comfort at the fact that Koslov still had no idea who he was – he continued to use Nick's alias even now, but he still needed to buy time. The door out the south side of the building was still 150 meters away.

He stopped running just long enough to shout,

"Koslov? Why would I do that? It doesn't sound like I get much out of telling you anything. You gotta sweet'n the deal buddy!"

He didn't wait for a response, he kept running.

Nick decided that Koslov really liked to hear himself talk. In the last 150 meter sprint to the exit Koslov hadn't stopped talking, though he was certainly getting harder to hear. And Nick suspected that if Koslov realized that he was no longer in earshot he would simply hit the button and that would be the end of it.

 _Keep going big guy, this is your moment. Savor it._

Nick finally reached the door and slammed into it only to bounce off and fall back onto the floor. His shoulder screamed at him, probably broken, certainly dislocated, but by far the worse injury was his pride. A little placard right above the handle said "pull", and in his haste Nick had missed it and hurt himself. _Way to go buddy._ Frantically getting up he yanked the door open, any semblance of caution long gone, and sprinted the last 100 meters to the edge of the wharf. As he left the building he heard a roar on the speakers.

 _Uh oh, Koslov just woke up and he doesn't sound happy._

It didn't matter, he was so close. All he had to do was dive off the end of the pier into safety and he could put all this behind him.

 _Hah! Get fucked Kosl-_

Nick didn't get the chance to finish the thought. There was a bright flash that seemed to light up the whole world and Nick, just meters from the relative safety of the water, was tossed into the air like a rag doll.

He was too late, Koslov had pressed his little button.

 _Oh, God, the pain_. He was close to losing himself in it. Never in his life had he experienced anything like it. The shock wave had pulverized him, knocked him nearly senseless. The heat had seared his fur and blistered his skin. His life flashed before his eyes as he tumbled helplessly, but he immediately pushed it out of his mind. There was nothing there he wanted to see, and besides, he was going to make it. Right? He suddenly realized that he was angry at himself; angry for being so weak, so apathetic, so _pathetic_ , angry that he had made so many mistakes, and angry he had let an idiot like Koslov get the best of him; angry that he had walked knowingly into this trap and couldn't be bothered to save himself. When had he become this way? He couldn't quite put his finger on it. A wry sense of amusement momentarily swept over him. He realized he couldn't put his finger on anything at the moment. He wasn't sure if he even had fingers anymore. Still, the thought was a troubling one. He had let this happen, he had practically dared Koslov to kill him and Koslov had obliged. Never again. If he made it, no, _when_ he made it, he was going to fix this, he was going to fix the ZIA, and most importantly, he was going to fix himself.

 _Yes,_ he decided, _things will get better from now on._

As the dark water rose up to meet him, he couldn't help but smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello everyone! I just wanted to thank all of my readers for the response to the first chapter of Saving Wilde. This is my first ever attempt at writing fiction beyond some _very_ short stories and I have been absolutely floored by how well it was received. Thank you all, I really appreciate it.**

 **Also a little house keeping: My plan for this story is to update about every two weeks. I am not a fast writer, and I travel a lot for work, so I don't want to get behind on updates and keep everyone waiting for ages and ages on the next chapter. I have the next couple of chapters ready to go though, so know that I do plan on keeping to that schedule.**

 **All reviews are most welcome, as I said this is my first ever real attempt at writing fiction of any sort, and I am still learning. With Judy especially I feel I am still trying to get her character down, and I think that that is a bit obvious in this chapter. Nick on the other hand just seems to flow from my fingers. So any advice is welcome!**

 **And so without further ado, Here is chapter 2 of Saving Wilde. Enjoy!**

* * *

Beep Beep Beep Beep

This time Judy waited until her alarm had gone off before getting out of bed. She was still exhausted, but at least for the last hour and a half she had slept like the dead. She was by no means refreshed of course. She had probably woken up once an hour until she had misread her clock and prematurely rushed to get ready for the day she thought had long since started. But she felt better than she expected and that was certainly something.

As she slid out of her bed she pondered the alarm clock, still confused as to how she could have read 2:30 as 7:30. It read 5am now, and she repeatedly glanced back at the clock while she got ready just to be sure it wasn't playing tricks on her again. It clicked over to 5:01 as she watched it and she smiled inwardly. Ok, she wasn't going crazy; it really was 5:01.

With that, she fell into her normal morning routine. Already she could hear sounds of stirring around the burrow. Her mother would already be up, preparing breakfast for her huge family. Her father would be outside checking on equipment before the day began. As Judy walked down the hall she listened for signs of activity on her wing. It was her responsibility to be sure that all her siblings on the wing were up at the crack of dawn for the long day ahead. They still had a half hour till they needed to be up, but she liked to keep tabs on everyone. Judy was the oldest Hopps daughter still living at home, all her sisters long since married, and her room was in the one of the wings of the house with many of the younger kittens. In some ways it felt like she was back living in the dorms in college. She had been an RA then, and this wasn't that different, better in some ways actually. Mammals are easier to deal with when they aren't constantly drunk.

After doing a sweep of a the wing she entered the bathroom which was blessedly empty. There had been other times in other years where she had had to fight to be the first to use the bathroom. Thankfully, those days were long past and she could enjoy the shower in peace. Judy needed it after everything she had gone through the previous 24 hours, and for those 10 wonderful minutes everything was ok again. All of her problems borne away by the caress of the hot water.

That was it, she was ready for the day. Ready to complete the rest of her morning list. _What was next again? Thats right, get dressed._ She chuckled to herself as she dried off. She would lose her head if it weren't for her lists. Perhaps that was a bit unfair, but they certainly kept her grounded, kept her focused. Not so easy as thing for a young rabbit. But perhaps that was what set her apart from her peers in Bunnyburrow. _Ok Judy, enough. Too much more and you will have trouble fitting your head through the door._ Her good humor surprised her. Last night it had felt as if her world was spiraling out of control and yet here she was trying to keep her ego in check. She would need every bit of that ego to confront her parents again she realized. Revisiting this topic with her parents would not be easy. Everything she had tried so far had failed, and last nights attempt spectacularly. To make matters worse, despite all her bluster, she was now terrified of the prospect of bringing it up again. Repeating the previous night's pain was just not something she could handle again so soon. She was a strong and willful rabbit, but everyone had their limits, and she had certainly reached hers the previous night. She sighed, perhaps today wasn't the best day to try again. Just seeing her parents this morning was slightly terrifying, and she found herself hoping they wouldn't speak to her about it, or speak to her at all.

Sighing for a final time, Judy proceeded back to her room to finish getting ready for the day. Her wing still wasn't up, something she would soon have to correct, and dallying in the bathroom would only cause her more problems.

Finally ready for the day Judy went downstairs to the kitchen to help her mother with breakfast. Today was a special day what with it being the opening day of the market season, and Bonnie was preparing a special breakfast, preparation for it had begun last night. That was when the fight started, while she was cutting up vegetables for the morning meal. She realized with a pang of guilt that once the fight had started that she had completely forgotten about helping her mother get ready for the morning. She briefly paused in the entranceway into the kitchen to work up the courage to enter. This wasn't going to be fun but she had no choice, she couldn't just abandon her mother, not after promising to help. Judy stepped into the kitchen and saw that her mother was already hard at work. She didn't notice Judy, too absorbed in preparing the meal for her enormous family, and Judy stood in the entranceway and watched her mother go about her various tasks.

Judy had always admired her mother for her ability to remain calm and under control no matter how bad things got. Right now she was preparing a meal for close to 220 rabbits, and yet she gave off an air of perfect contentment. She seemed not to have a care in the world as she gracefully glided around kitchen. This was her mother at her best. Even when everything seemed to be crumbling she managed to stand tall through all of it. She was the rock which the family clung to in the worse of times. Judy thought back to her older brother, Christopher, who had been killed in a farming accident five years ago. The family had been devastated, her father unable to bring himself to get back to work for nearly a week. She remembered how hard the funeral had been. Christopher was well regarded in Bunnyburrow, the funeral had been well attended, hundreds of bunnies had come to pay their respects. It had been an emotional event. The only part she clearly remembered though was her mother's eulogy for Chris. She remembered the steely defiance in her voice that day, the determination to master her grief. The Hopps family had fallen to pieces when Chris had died, and it had been her mother who had picked up them all up and put them back together again. Bonnie was a rabbit of iron when the chips were down, and Judy only hoped she could eventually have even an ounce of the fortitude her mother had. She would need it.

And now Judy had just the opportunity she needed to demonstrate the reserves of fortitude she possessed within herself. A wry grin briefly crossed her lips. This wasn't exactly the type of situation she had been imagining in her head where she would prove her courage to the world. Everyone has to start somewhere though, and so she said in a voice just barely above a whisper,

"Morning mother."

It was enough.

At the soft greeting Bonnie absentmindedly glanced at the door and final noticed Judy standing there. Her face immediately softened and she was almost instantly across the kitchen, embracing Judy as she had not been embraced by her mother in a long time.

"Judy, I am so happy to see you this morning. I hated the way we ended the night." She released Judy from the embrace and grasped her shoulders.

"Mother I-" began Judy, ready to make her apologies and move on from this particular episode.

"Judy, I'm sorry for shouting at you last night. We should never treat each other that way."

Judy wasn't sure if she should be happy that this whole thing seemed as if it would be smoothed over very quickly, or if she should be annoyed that her while her mother had apologized for shouting she had not apologized for the the things that were said. Actually, no, she was annoyed, but she realized that right now just wasn't a good time for this. The day ahead was going to be a tough one, and she still hadn't fully recovered from the night before. "I am sorry too mom, I don't like fighting with you guys." she said.

Bonnie smiled at her and pulled her back in for another hug, "No, I don't either. Now c'mon, we still have plenty to do this morning."

And with that the issue was apparently dropped, with her mother at least. But despite her continued annoyance Judy dutifully helped her mother prepare and serve the huge breakfast to the family. This was not something she had ever enjoyed. She was a poor cook, never really taking the time to learn, and it was only on special occasions she was asked to assist her mother in the task. As a result Judy was only ever asked to do the most simple things, mince an onion perhaps, take a pot off the stove, put a dish in the oven. She was certainly helping her mother at least a little, but that didn't stop her from feeling more like a burden, and she suspected that the only reason Bonnie requested her help on days like this was to teach her a little bit about cooking. Though if that was the case, these were probably the worst times to learn. She wasn't going to refuse her mother requests however, so she suffered through it.

Judy didn't stick around the burrow to eat breakfast with her family, the moment it was ready she grabbed what she could carry and left to go to the stand, ignoring her mother's protests. As she was leaving she walked by the family TV room. The news was always on in the morning and she usually took a few minutes to see what was going on in the world, and especially Zootopia. Much of her family was there, even her father, and Judy hovered just outside the doorway into the room so as not to be noticed. The news was playing a video of a massive explosion, bigger than anything she would have ever imagined, it lit up the night sky. The camera mammal looked to be pretty far from the blast, and there was a wide river in between him and the explosion. She watched in horrified fascination as the water in front of the camera was torn up by the shockwave at it approached the camera mammal's location. Suddenly there was a loud crack followed by what sounded like the wind during a tornado, and the sound of shattering glass, a lot of it. The camera was upended, seemed to tumble for a moment, and stopped recording.

"-The explosion occurred at about 1am last night in the warehouse district of the Zootopia docks." The anchor, a snow leopard, said impassively. "City records show that the warehouse had been abandoned since 2017 so city officials are hoping that any casualties will be minimal. Police are still trying to find the cause of the blast, but fires still raging all across the district are hampering the investigation. So far 10 firefighters have been injured trying to contain the infernos, though none seriously. Four blocks around the epicenter of the blast have been nearly razed to the ground."

Then the report cut away to an aerial shot of the block where the old abandoned warehouse once stood. There was really nothing left, just a smoldering crater, and she could see emergency workers picking through the debris.

"The explosion has caused major damage to surrounding area, seven mammals have been reported admitted to hospitals for injuries caused by falling debris, and one has apparently been killed. Our hearts go out to their family. The head of the ZPD, Chief Bogo, is planning to hold a press conference in an hour and will present the preliminary findings of the investigation to the public."

 _Wow, thats not good._ Judy thought as she got into her car. As terrible as it was, Judy could think of nothing but the fact that this event would just give her parents more ammunition against her. But even she had to admit that she was a little shocked. She never thought something like _that_ could happen in a huge city like Zootopia, though at least very few mammals had been hurt. She didn't have time to dwell on it though, working the stand demanded her full attention, and that is exactly what it got.

The first day was always the worst. No matter how much prepping they did in the weeks prior there was always something missing, or not setup right, or broken. And Judy spent much of the early hours of the morning putting out fires. One of her younger brothers had forgot the bring the dandelion greens from storage the night before and Judy had missed their absence when doing her final checks, one of their carts blew a tire, and a local kit wrecked a viewing rack by climbing on it. So, all in all, a pretty typical opening day. At the very least it went by quickly. The first day always did, not like those long hot days in the late summer when you might only have two customers from dawn til dusk. And being so busy had the added benefit of giving Judy no time to dwell on the problems she had been having. Her mind was filled with nothing but the task at hand, and it was one she was good at, despite her disdain for it.

Things started to calm down at around 3 o'clock in the afternoon, when there was a bit of a lull in customers. It was then that she saw, to her horror, that her dad was driving up to the stand.

"Hey Jude!", called from the open window the the truck, "You mind help'n me get these greens unloaded?"

"Sure thing dad." she replied, with not an inconsiderable feeling of trepidation. Hopefully this would go no different than the apologies with her mother had gone, or even better, he would pretend like it never happened. That wasn't Stu though, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. Where her mother was the stoic anchor of the family, her father was the emotional center of gravity. You had a problem? Go talk to Stu, he would help you sort it out, and make you feel good about yourself along the way. She wasn't going to get out of this without having to talk to her father about the fight, and she steeled herself for what she fully expected to be an awkward and uncomfortable few minutes.

Stu met Judy behind the truck and lowered the tailgate. "So, how're things going today?" he asked as he pulled a crate to the end of the bed. "Fine dad," Judy replied, "we have been very busy today, better than last year actually. Mammals can't get enough of Gideon's cakes."

Stu sighed, it was clear that that wasn't what he had wanted to know about, but Judy wasn't going to make this so easy for him. She was still quite mad with him, and while she was by no means a vindictive rabbit, she felt he deserved to squirm a little after what he had said.

"Judes, I have been thinkin', I am sorry for what I said last night. It never should have left my mouth. I just don't want to see you hurt, you know? Zootopia is big and scary place, heck just this morning half the city blew up!"

"Dad! I saw the news, it was just a warehouse."

"Yeah, but did you see how big that explosion was? They don't even make 'em that big in movies! And I would know, I have seen a lot of movies Judy."

He gave her a warm look and Judy found herself suppressing a giggle. He was getting off way too easy, she should still be mad with him, but she felt it beginning to slip away. The hurt was still there, but her anger ebbed further and further with every word he spoke.

"Dad… It's what I want... what I've always wanted, ever since I was little.," she said softly.

Again Stu sighed, the warm look leaving his face, replaced by one of worry and sadness, "I know Judy, I am just worried about what would happen to you if you became a police bunny. There are big and dangerous mammals in the city. And it's chock full of predators! Lions, tigers, bears, even foxes! I don't want you going off to the city and getting yourself hurt, and I don't want you to leave only to come back with your tail between your legs. My brother Mort lived in Zootopia for years, and when he came back he was so different than the Mort I knew before he left that I hardly recognized him. It was like the city broke him Judy."

"Your sister Sylvia still lives there dad, and she is doing just fine." Judy replied.

Stu blinked, and then looked off into the distance, chin held in his paw. "Well… I suppose that is true, Sylvia was always an odd one though, so restless. Most incredible green thumb I ever saw too, it was always such a shame when she left, the carrots were never quite as orange afterwards."

Judy sensed that her father was about to go off on a tangent, but he surprised her when he suddenly veered back to the topic at hand.

"But Sylvia sure did change for the better once she moved to the city. So much happier. Maybe you are the same way? I don't know Judy, I don't like the idea of you being a police bunny, but I will think about it."

Judy stared, shocked, at her father. Had he just talked himself into considering allowing her to leave to go to the city? Yes, yes he had. She felt herself tearing up.

"Anyway, Judes... Jude the Dude," he gave her a concerned smile, "what I am trying to say is that I am sorry for what I said last night. I bet that if you became a police bunny, you would be the best one ever." He paused for a moment, considering, "Though I suppose you would be be the only one ever! So you would be a shoe in, ha ha!" He laughed wholeheartedly, and gave Judy a light jab on her arm. She found his mirth irresistible, and she was swept up right along with him, laughing even as tears began trickling down her cheeks.

Stu spread his arms and said, "C'mere Judy." And she eagerly accepted the embrace.

"I love you sweetie."

"I love you too dad"

Releasing her, he gave her another warm smile before turning and picking up the crate sitting at the back of the truck. Judy reaching into the bed and pulled out the next crate, following her father back to the stand. As they walked Stu looked back at Judy and said,

"You know Judy, I actually have a special task for you. The soy field isn't growing as well as I think it should be. I think the nitrogen content of the soil is too low , but it could be something else. I need you to take Ol' Johnny and get some soil samples. We may have to hit the field with fertilizer again. It should only take about an hour, and then you can take the rest of the day off. I think you have earned it. I can take care of things here. I certainly have plenty of help."

For the second time in as many minutes Judy stared at her father, at a complete loss for words.

"O-of course!" She finally stammered out.

He smiled at her, "Well times awaistin' Judes! I can take of the rest of this stuff." motioning back to the truck.

Judy hugged her father again, "Thank's dad, you're the best."

Stu chuckled, returned the hug and wished her farewell. Judy rushed back home, soil samples would take no time at all and she didn't want to waste a moment. Now she was in an excellent mood, even the sting of her father's words from the night before beginning to disappear. She couldn't believe how the day had gone so far. She thought it would be hell, but _somehow_ it had turned out alright after all.

* * *

Her good mood didn't last long. As she pulled back into the driveway at the burrow she saw her mother storming out the front door and approach her car. Bonnie looked furious, and she was very clearly shouting Judy's name as she approached. Judy got out of the car, a mix of confusion and worry in her eyes and heart.

"What wrong mom?" She called out.

"JUDITH! What did your father tell you?!" Bonnie shouted back, though she was so close now Judy could have heard her if she had been speaking barely above a whisper.

Judy found herself off balance, she had no idea what the problem was, and she found herself frantically racking her brain for an explanation.

" I uh…" she started, "I-, what do you mean?"

"What did he tell you?!" Bonnie repeated, still shouting despite having stopped just at the other side of the car.

"He just asked me to get some soil samples from the soy fields mother!" Judy replied incredulously. What the heck was going on?

"No, that's not what I am talking about. He talked to you about Zootopia didn't he?!"

 _Oh God_.

She didn't need to reply, the look on her face gave her away, and Bonnie's rage increased.

"I don't know why this is so hard for you to understand Judith. You are not leaving! You are not going to Zootopia. I will not lose another one of my children!"

"But Dad said-"

"I don't care what he said Judy! Zootopia is no place for a rabbit, Bunnyburrow is where you belong Judy!"

No, this was too much, this was just like last night, except now it was coming from her mother. She wasn't going to put up with this, and she found herself matching her mother's anger.

"But I HATE it here mother! I hate farming, I hate working at the stand, and I hate Bunnyburrow!"

"Judith, this is what rabbits are made for! We are farmers! That is our place on this earth, and the sooner you realize it the happier you'll be."

Enough was enough, she had a task to complete, and she was sick and tired of this constant refrain. "You're a bunny, act like it." It was garbage and she knew it, and she wasn't going to listen to it anymore.

"I'm done mother." She said, no longer shouting, and turned around and walked towards the barn.

"Judy-!"

"No mother! I am not having this conversation with you right now. I am not!"

* * *

Judy didn't look back, but then there was no reason to. Bonnie hadn't responded, but instead had just stood there, watching her daughter's back as she walked away. The rage slowly seeping out of her.

That had been the wrong thing to do, Bonnie realized. She shouldn't have said all that, she had just been as bad as Stu had last night. She wouldn't have even been so mad if it hadn't been for Stu calling her to tell her he had spoken to Judy about moving to Zootopia, even after they had agreed to drop the issue for now. But that wasn't Judy's fault, and Bonnie kicked herself for talking her anger out on her daughter, it was Stu who deserved her ire. It wasn't fair to Judy. Bonnie had been young and idealistic once, and while getting past that phase as quickly as possible would probably be for the best, it wasn't right for Bonnie and Stu to forcibly beat it out of their daughter. She sighed, she would have to apologize when Judy returned. And with that she went back into the burrow.

* * *

Judy on the other hand was still furious, her good mood long forgotten. What was her mother's problem? It should be none of her business if she wanted to leave or not. She was 24 for cheese's sake! She was an adult, and she should be able to make decisions about her life for herself. It was long past the time for that, her parents should have let go years ago. So what if she failed? So what if she _died_? At the very least should would have tried to do something with herself. Should would have been more than a simple farmer just like the rest of rabbitdom. That just wasn't her. She would rise above, it was her destiny. Perhaps that was a little too grandiose, but it sounded good in her head, and it distracted her from all the arguing.

She entered the barn, and climbed up onto Ol' Johnny. At least she had the rest of the day off, and would be sure to use it to avoid her mother.

Ol' Johnny was an old model M John Deere tractor built in the early 50's. The venerable old machine had been in the family since her grandfather's time. It was really an old workhorse, of the era when John Deere still built quality, and its chipped and fading green paint was a testament to just how hard it he been worked over the years. She started it up and the old two cylinder engine roared to life. Any other day she may have appreciated that despite its age it still ran like a charm. But today was not one of those days, and she shot out of the barn just as fast as the old tractor could carry her, an admittedly sedate 15kph.

In hindsight she probably should have taken another vehicle. She had always loved this old tractor. It just had more character than most newer vehicles so she jumped at every opportunity to drive it. But these days it needed babying. Sometimes it would pop out of gear, close attention needed to be paid to the water temperature, and you _certainly_ never ran it at full tilt. But as she ran down to the soy fields, she thought about none of these things, still fuming from the confrontation with her mother. She had just reached the first field when she noticed steam rising from the front of the tactor. _Oh, crackers_ , was all she had time to think before she heard a pop and steam began pouring from the engine compartment. As the tractor ground to a halt, she felt her own temperature rising.

"Why?! Whhyyy?!" she screamed in anger and frustration before slumping forward onto the steering wheel, staring at her feet in an attempt to reign in her emotions. She felt stupid for not paying enough attention, she was usually so careful with Ol' Johnny, and now here she had blown the radiator. _Deep breaths Judy, deep breaths._ Today had been a rollercoaster, but it wouldn't do to wreck her favorite tractor, that would only make things worse. She sat up and reached forward to pat the engine cover.

"I am sorry Johnny, I should have been paying attention."

She climbed off the tractor and opened the hood, standing back to let the remaining steam flood from the compartment. The radiator cap had a safety release and it had blown. At least it would be an easy fix she thought while she grabbed a rag and unscrewed the cap, letting more steam out. Waiting a moment, she looked into the radiator. It was almost empty. Judy let out a sigh of relief. Yes, it would be an easy fix, she just needed water. Good thing she was right by the river. It wasn't a good idea to put unfiltered water into the tractor, but it would be fine for the kilometer back to the barn, she would just have to drain it when she got back. Judy went around the back of the tractor and grabbed the bucket hanging from a hook behind the seat and walked off towards the river.

The river in question was called the Vespa, and it was the largest river in all of Zootopia. It ran all the way from the great ocean hundreds of kilometers to the south, through BunnyBurrow, then about 150km north to Zootopia. From there it snaked it was way far to the north to its source. A massive lake fed by yearly runoff from the mountains. In years past the Vespa had been a vital road of commerce and Zootopia had been founded upon its banks to tap into that artery. Over the years, as other means of transporting goods became available its importance waned, and river traffic became far less common.

Judy made her way carefully down the bank to the edge of the water. The bank was rather steep there, and the last thing she needed at the moment was to slip and get herself covered in mud. Reaching the edge of the water she rolled up her jeans and waded slowly into the water. The less crap in the water the better, and she hoped that the farther from the shore there would be less debris and silt. As she stood in the water her anger began to return. Taking care of Johnny had provided a momentary distraction from the fight with her mother, but the relief was fleeting, and all her anger and frustration came flooding back. To make matters worse, wading out into the water hadn't reduce the amount of silt in the water and she looked about in frustration. She really had no choice, she had to get the tractor back to the barn so she could work on it, and so she resigned herself to extra work she was about to create. Trudging back up the bank she carefully poured the water into the radiator, using the rag as a filter to catch the worst of it. Pouring cold water into a hot radiator could be disastrous, and she didn't want to break Johnny and strand herself by the river bank. She checked the level, only half full, and she trudged back down the bank, her frustration rising.

She waded back into the water, thinking about what her mother had said to her.

"'This is what rabbits are made for, Judy. We are farmers!'" She quoted her mother aloud, voice quivering in anger. "Yeah right… You just never had the guts to do anything else."

She kicked at the water. Her parents had settled, and now they were trying to drag her down with them into the same uneventful, boring life. She realized her parents had been cowards, and the thought both saddened and angered her.

At that same moment she noticed a piece of cloth floating towards her and she snatched it from the water.

"Oh great. First my parents are trying to keep me from ever growing up, and now mammals are dumping their trash in our river."

It was a silly thing to be mad over, it was a single piece of cloth, and who knows where it could have come from, but right now her temper was on a hair trigger, that single piece of cloth was all it took.

She looked up the river, looking for the source of the offending item, scanning the shore expecting to see a clump of trash which she would have to clean up. At this point she was almost desperate to find somewhere else to direct her frustrations. The realization that her parents he been cowards in their younger years, and by extension most rabbits in Bunnyburrow, was unsettling, and she didn't want to dwell on it.

Her eye caught something, something a dull dirty red. She made to approach it but stopped dead in her tracks, breath caught in her throat, eyes wide in shock.

Laying there amongst the reeds, body half submerged in the water, filthy and bleeding, was a red fox.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone!**

 **Before we begin I just wanted to thank all of those that read, reviewed, and followed my story. The response so far has been humbling, and I am so glad you are all enjoying it.**

 **For any potential new readers, all reviews and questions are welcome!**

 **Also, I realize I have been forgetting to add disclaimers so here it is:**

 **I don't own any copyrighted character depicted in this story, they are the property of their creators.**

* * *

"Have you ever thought about death, Mr. Wilde?"

"No, I suppose I haven't."

"And why is that, do you think?"

Nick pondered the question for a moment.

"I think there is a saying about that, 'The mammalian condition is to deny the possibility that they will ever die.' Or something like that."

The examiner, a striped skunk, cocked his eyebrow.

"Very pithy, but you didn't answer the question."

Nick sighed, and leaned back in the hard metal chair. This was getting old. He had been in this room for three hours now, and the whole time this skunk had been asking him questions like this. Nick had done his best, he really had, but now this inane interrogation was getting on his nerves.

"Look, Doc, I don't think about death. What's ta think about? You're either alive, or you're dead." He replied, gesturing with his paws to emphasis the last two points.

The skunk hmmed at him and wrote something down in his note pad, just like he had done for all the other questions he had asked. There must have been at least 200 at this point, probably more. If Nick had realized that applying for this position would entail something like this he would have reconsidered.

"Doc?"

The skunk stopped writing and looked up at him.

"How many more questions do we have?"

The skunk furrowed his brow and replied, "We talked about this already Mr. Wilde. I thought we agreed you would stop asking me that question."

He wasn't wrong, after about an hour and a half Nick had started asking that question every 10 minutes on the dot. And every time the skunk would answer in the same way, 'Oh, just a few more.' It had become a game of sorts for a short while. Nick trying to derail the skunk's attention as far as possible. After the 5th time though the skunk had stopped him and told him to stop asking the question. Nick smiled inwardly at the thought. He wasn't sure if he had won his little game or not, but it sure felt like it.

Nick gave the skunk a sly grin. "Of course we did Doc, but that was an hour ago-" More notes, Nick noticed, "- and I think it's time to renegotiate."

The skunk looked at Nick wearily, and Nick decided that he was indeed winning this little game.

"Consider it renegotiated: Stop asking me that question."

"Can I ask you other questions?"

"Yes of course."

"Alright, why am I being asked all these questions?"

"Because you are here interviewing for what you called-" The skunked flipped back through his notebook to find the exact quote, "-the 'Spook' position."

Nick rolled his eyes. This was how most of his questions were answered: in the most vague manner possible.

"Now, how about we continue?"

"Fine, fine, get on with it." Nick waved his paw dismissively.

"How about we talk about your military service? What motivated you to join the Army?"

This was different. So far the skunk hadn't asked him a single personal question besides his name and age at the beginning of the interview. Personal questions like this made him uncomfortable. His upbringing was abnormal, to put it diplomatically. His past had too much pain, too much loss, and too much disappointment. He had long learned to compartmentalize his life experiences. And his childhood had been traumatizing. Losing both parents by 12, homeless for the next three years, picked up by the foster system and traded around until he was 18. If he never had to think about it, it couldn't hurt him again. He had joined the Army to escape all that, to redefine himself, but he wasn't about to share that with the Skunk across from him.

"Oh, you know. The same reason anyone else does." Nick deflected the question, just like he would any personal question. One of the important parts of compartmentalizing was that things never came out of their boxes.

"Did it have to do with the death of your mother?".

The question blindsided him, and Nick's facade fell away for the first time.

 _How did they know?_

The skunk looked at Nick expectantly

Nick was suddenly on the defensive and he looked away from the skunk, determined not to make eye contact. He wasn't prepared to answer this; he had never spoken about his mother's death since the accident, not with anyone. Well, that was true, one person knew what had _happened_ , but that was it. He kicked himself for letting his guard down so easily. The skunk must have realized he touched a nerve, and Nick was overcome with an intense feeling of dread. The bastard had found a chink in his armor and was now going to exploit it.

"No." It was all he could manage, and he still refused to look at the skunk.

The skunk frowned.

"Why didn't you save me Nick?"

The strange question made Nick instantly look up and across the table, but the skunk was no longer there. Instead, in his place, the fox saw his mother.

"Nick, why didn't you save me?" she asked impassively.

"What are you talking ab-?"

"You could have pulled me from the car Nick."

He stared at his mother in shock and she stared right back. Save her? Save her from what?

He looked around the car, trying to decipher her meaning. They were driving home down the road along the river on the way back from a parent teacher conference, a particularly unpleasant parent teacher conference in fact. His mother still looked at him, not a single hint of emotion crossing her visage. He returned her gaze, completely at a loss for what she wanted.

"I thought you loved me Nick."

 _What?_

His brow furrowed in confusion and he replied,

"I do love you moth-!"

And then it happened. A truck appeared around the bend in their lane, coming right for them. There was nothing Mrs. Wilde could do, no time for anything.

 _No!_

He felt no pain however, even as the airbag slammed into his face, and bits of shattered glass pierced his skin, he felt nothing. Nevertheless he had to watch as his mother died. Again.

 _Again?_

He looked around, this wasn't real. His mother was long dead, drowned with the car more than 15 years ago. Nick was rocked by a terrible realization: His mother knew. She knew he had failed her. He had tried so hard. He had given it everything he could, but his lungs had been on fire, and his vision had dimmed, and his every sense had screamed at him to swim for the surface. And he had listened. Listened to his instincts trying to save him, and they had, but those same instincts ensured that his mother never got out of that car.

Something in him fought back. It screamed and raged. It had not been his fault, there was nothing more he could have done. He had almost died in the attempt. She wouldn't have wanted him to die on her account, she would have wanted him to live. Live and be happy. She would have given her life a thousand times over for that.

Everything stopped.

The horrible scene in front of him melted away into blackness, and the war of emotions raging inside of him melted away too.

It was over, and somehow, he felt a modicum of peace.

He realized he was dying. The thought improved his mood. At least all this would be done with.

Somehow he had survived the explosion, a miracle really, the bomb had been so massive. But now his luck had run out, the cold water of the Vespa was swallowing him up and there was nothing he could do. It had taken his mother, and now it would take him. _This is what it must be like when your brain shuts down before death,_ _though wasn't this supposed to be comforting or something?_ What he experienced had been anything but. _What the hell brain? You had one job…_ He seemed to remember that this was all supposed to be painless too, but _that_ certainly wasn't the case. His whole body felt as if it was broken. Just breathing sent shockwaves of pain arching across his body. This was all bullshit. He had been lied to about death, and he wasn't happy. He decided that after he died the first thing he would haunt the editor of whatever magazine he had read that in. He couldn't remember which it was, immense physical trauma has a way of making one forget things after all, but he was sure that once it was all done with his mind would return to its normal clarity. He remembered, then, that he didn't believe that there was anything after death. He chuckled inwardly in spite of his predicament. _Oh well, more's the pity._ That damn editor was lucky this time, but if Nick somehow miraculously survived he swore he would write a very strongly worded letter to that magazine. Death sucks, and he thought the world should know.

Then, without warning of any sort, an explosion of pain ripped across his shoulder and back. Dammit, if he was going to die, couldn't his body take pity on him and get it over with? There was something buzzing in his ear, something he hadn't noticed before, and he wanted to swat at it. But he couldn't move, he was too weak, and he resigned himself having to listen to it. The buzzing suddenly took shape.

"Hey!"

The word seemed to float into his consciousness. It puzzled him. Was there some sort of significance to the word 'Hey'? None that he could think of, but it had sounded beautiful. Oh god, the hallucinations were beginning again. _Trying for round two, eh, brain? Couldn't we just forget about this? Or maybe this time around we could pick a nice memory, like one with Liliya..._

"Hey, you gotta wake up!"

 _Fuck you, no I don't. I am dying, I don't have to do anything._ He tried to place the voice, but nothing came to him. His subconscious was trying to tell him something he decided, but what?

Suddenly he felt himself being turned onto his side. What was going on? Someone was there he realized, calling to him.

"You're gonna be ok."

That voice… it washed over him like the warm ocean, pushing away everything else.

"C'mon, wake up."

It was full of worry. But for whom? For him, he realized. And for some reason the thought surprised him. No one worried about him. He had spent his life making that true, and yet here there was someone worried for him.

"Don't die…"

The voice was perfect, like honey, like the harmony of angels. It consumed his every thought, everything that had come before was unimportant, he just needed to hear the voice again.

"Please…"

He suddenly saw a tiny flash in the darkness. Like a single star in the night sky, and as he stared at that tiny star, it seemed to flicker and flash like a candle.

"I won't let you die."

The voice was full of determination now, and the star shone brighter. He reached out to it, perhaps if he could just touch it… Everything began to brighten, the tiny light now on fire with sun like brilliance. The light wrapped around him and he felt the cold was sliding off of him with each beat of his heart.

"Everything is going to be ok, I promise!"

He was suddenly on the precipice of true consciousness. Someone had just spoken to him, trying to assure him that he would make it. _That voice… it's the same one. I must..._ He suddenly had a goal. Even if it was the last thing he would ever do he would open his eyes to see the owner of that voice. He knew if he could he would be looking into the face of divinity, for what else but a god could speak in such dulcet tones?

It pushed him over the edge, his faculties slowly returned to him. So did the pain of course, seemingly worse than before, but it didn't matter. He had but to do one thing and he could slip back into his stupor once and for all. He focused everything he had on it, and the effort caused him to exhale a rattling breath.

"Oh my god, oh my god!"

He felt small bits of wet hitting his face, and he suddenly realized the saccharine voice above him was full of tears. _No, don't cry for me_ , he thought, _I am nothing. Just another fox. Gods don't cry for foxes._

He had it, he could do it. He was going to open his eyes. Every last ounce of concentration he had left was needed, but it was worth it. His eyes opened, just a slit, but his world was getting brighter. He was almost there.

He did it.

The blurry figure about him inhaled sharply.

Suddenly, she was in focus, kneeling over him, face full of tears and worry. She was…

A bunny.

He felt cheated. His savior was a bunny. Just a goddamn bunny. Humiliation swept through him. He was at what was probably his lowest point, his most vulnerable. And he found himself sharing it with a bunny. This just wouldn't do, he had to get out of here, to get far away from this damn rabbit. He tried to move, but the effort exhausted him the the pain stole the breath from his lungs.

"No, no, don't move, I am gonna get you out of here." She soothed.

"I'll call 211!"

 _NO!_

His mind screamed. No, that could not happen. With a suddenly clarity he knew that even in his current state he now had a major advantage over Koslov, and more importantly the MSS. Just as he had missed all of Koslov's bombs, so too would they miss him. He was dead, and they wouldn't be looking for a dead man. You never find what you aren't looking for. If he ended up in a hospital word would eventually reach Koslov, and he would be back to square one, or worse. He would not let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

Energy filled his body. He must stop her.

"I'll call them right now."

"No!" He forced the sound out of his mouth. It was barely a whisper, but the bunny had clearly heard him, and she stared at him wide eyed.

"W- what?"

He found hearing her distracting. Her voice still mesmerized him. _God what a beautiful sound…_ He caught himself and shook the thought from his head. _Stay focused._

"Don't call them." Again he forced his voice to cooperate.

"But…"

"If you call them I'll die."

She blinked at him, confused. Then her face was filled with exasperation.

"What are you talking about? They will help you!"

She looked down at him, face unreadable for a moment, and Nick got the distinct feeling that she was about the realize she was arguing with the dying.

There it was.

"No, I- they are going to help you. I can't let you die."

He grabbed her wrist as she brought the phone back up, and Nick blinked at his sudden strength.

"Please don't. I- I can't go to a hospital." He ground out. "Promise me you won't call them."

"I-"

Her face showed her intense confliction, then it passed. The battle was over. She closed her eyes momentarily, sighed, and lowered her phone.

"Fine, but I am not going to let you die. I have to get you out of here."

It had been so easy.

He looked up into her eyes, a striking violet he realized, even in his condition, and he felt a grin creep across his lips.

Yes, this would work out perfectly. Now he just had to live.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone, I hope you are enjoying my story!**

 **I don't own any Disney characters.**

 **On with the show!**

* * *

Oh god, oh god, what was she going to do?

Judy was lost.

The fox had just slipped back into unconsciousness after refusing to allow her to call the police. She could not understand what his problem was. Why didn't he want the police and EMTs to help him? They were _trained_ medical professionals, in distinct contrast with _her._ She had taken nothing but a basic first aid course, her parents too concerned that allowing her to do more would encourage her to follow a career they didn't approve of. After the fox's little outburst she had busied herself with putting what she had learned to use, and had done her best to patch up the fox with what she had on paw. Mostly the tattered remains of his cloths. But he needed clean bandages, and some who actually knew what they were doing. His wounds were extensive but localized to his back. He was a mess, deep bleeding gashes, a clearly dislocated arm, singed fur. This was beyond her, and she knew it, but she did her best like she always did.

But now… now she had to get him back up the embankment. It had been enough of a struggle to get him out of the water, and she had only moved him a few meters. Now she had another 15 or 20 and it was up a steep slope. It wasn't going to be easy.

She began to argue with herself. Calling the police was definitely the right thing to do. They had the resources, the training, and most importantly, the _strength_ to get the fox the help he needed. Under her care his chances weren't good, and she had a duty to him now. She had to help him. But… he had asked her not to, begged her even. And she had agreed. She had _promised_ him not to. She felt a pang of guilt. She was going to have to break that promise, there was just no other option.

The fox coughed, and the noise brought her back from her reverie. He was looking at her again now, dull eyes meeting hers. He beat her then, she would do as he asked, and she gave him a guilty look.

"I'm sorry. I-"

She didn't finished her sentence, but he didn't seem to hear her, he eyes hazy, unfocused. She ignored his gaze, if she wasn't going to call the police then she better get started figuring out how to get him up the embankment. She looked around, but no solution was forthcoming. She weighed her options, none of the them were good. All she could do was drag him.

She hooked her arms beneath his and began to drag him up the slope. It was slow going, and he was so heavy. _Since when were foxes so huge?_ She asked herself as she panted her way up the slope. The fox must have come to again because she could feel his wincing as he caught on the brush. He would just have to deal with it she thought grimly. _Serves him right for making me drag him up this hill._ She blinked. The stress was getting to her, clearly. She had never been one to be vindictive, but this was certainly bringing it out of her. Why the heck did _she_ have to be the one to find him, of all mammals. Why did a fox, a probably dangerous and criminal fox… She stopped dead in her tracks. _Oh god, he is probably a criminal!_ She was such a fool, why else would this fox be in this state? Normal, non-criminal, mammals didn't just end up in a river, unless they had been in some sort of accident. _Oh god, I am a speciesist…_ College had been an eye opening experience in many ways, particularly when it came to predators. But as hard as she tried, thoughts like that still sometimes crept in. He wasn't a criminal just because he was a fox. He had probably been in a terrible accident, and he needed her help. Right?

Right.

She was done fighting herself over whether or not this was a good idea, she was going to help him. Easier said than done of course, she still hadn't gotten him up the bank, but there wasn't much more. And then it was done, she had dragged him to the top and loaded him onto Johnny, thinking the whole time about just how many favors this fox would owe her when this was all said and done. And then she realized, much to her chagrin, that she still needed more water for the tractor.

The trip back was uneventful, though she constantly had her eye on her charge. He remained unconscious and unmoving, blissfully ignorant of the bumpy ride to the burrow.

She dreaded her arrival, her parents weren't going to take this well. If he had been any other species… _Well, no, not any other species…_ she corrected herself. Her parents weren't fond of any sort of predator, foxes though were particularly subject to their ire. The son the of the local fox family, Gideon Grey, had had a few run ins with Judy during their childhood. He had been a bully, and had singled her out amongst her peers because she was a bit, well, _odd_ , when compared to other kittens growing up. Rabbits with dreams like hers were unusual, and that put a target on her back. Her parents knew about the things he did, really there was no way they could not have. Bunnyburrow was not a "small town" by any means, there were way too many rabbits for that to be the case, but the Greys were the only predators who lived in it, and that meant that the other species who lived there kept a close eye on them. Gideon's propensity for bullying certainly wasn't the source of their prejudice of course, bunnies had long feared foxes, but it certainly justified it. It had for her too; until she went away.

But now she was bringing a fox home. The species that she had grown up believing were sly tricksters, bullies, liars, cheats, etc.

She sighed. It had been an interesting day.

Judy was yelling.

So was her mother.

So was everyone actually.

The entrance into the burrow had been about what she had expected. Her mother had looked as though she would die of fright, and some of her younger siblings had run from the entrance hall screaming. She had briefly considered trying to sneak the fox into the burrow, it could be done, but she had gotten stuck as to what to do with him once she had him inside. He needed medical attention, probably plenty of rest, food… of some sort. She wasn't sure what foxes ate. If she hid him in the burrow chances were he wouldn't get most of those things. So her only real option had been to make it clear that she had a wounded fox, and she need help taking care of him. Well, she hadn't gotten to the second part yet.

At the moment she was standing in the middle of the entrance hall having a screaming match with a good part of her family, while the fox lay in a heap at her feet.

"I already told you mother! I have no idea who he is, but I need to help him. _We_ need to help him!"

"Help a _fox_ Judy?! He would probably just as soon pick your pocket as he would help you cross the street and you want to _help_ him?! Foxes are a menace Judy, and I won't have one in my burrow!"

"How can you say that mother? This fox hasn't done anything wrong! He will die if we don't help him!"

"Then call the police, Judy! You of all rabbits should know to do that! Even if we wanted to help him, what would we do? We can't feed and take care of a predator, we are farmers Judy, not a bunch of doctors!"

Her mother was right of course, she should have called the police. Should have called them when she found him and should still call them now. But she couldn't. She had promised him not to, and her word was gold. Still, she wasn't sure how to explain that to her parents. They had of course been the ones to instill this iron adherence to keeping her word, but that didn't matter now, not when a fox was in the burrow.

"I can't…" She said as she looked away from her mother in embarrassment.

"What?!" Bonnie stared at her daughter in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I- he- he asked me not to, and I promised I wouldn't."

It had sounded just as bad as she thought it would. Bonny's initial reaction upon hearing this had been one of shock, but as she processed what her daughter said, Judy watched as different emotions swept across her features.

"Judith. Laverne. _Hopps_." Bonnie spat out in rage, "You mean to tell me that you brought that- that _monster_ into my home because you _promised_ not to call the police to help him?"

Judy withered under her mother's gaze. She had never seen her this angry, and again, for the third time in about 24 hours, Judy found herself on the defensive in an argument with one of her parents.

"Mother, we have to help him." was all should could reply. She really had nothing. No reason for not calling other than that she had promised. And that now seemed so silly.

"Oh we will Judy, I am going to call the police right now, I am sure he deserves to be locked up anyhow!"

Judy barely stopped herself from flinching. Such blatant speciesism was almost painful, doubly so hearing it come from her mother. It was just all so wrong. If this fox had been some other animal, a sheep perhaps, or another bunny, he would have been welcomed into the burrow with open arms and nursed back to health as quickly as possible, no questions asked. There was no question of it in fact. It would have been simply a matter of course. The same sort of courtesy clearly wouldn't be extended to the fox she had just dragged through the door. This wasn't right. Judy wasn't going to let this pass. She was honestly at her rope's end. The constant fighting over the past day had left her on edge. She was tired of it. Tired of letting her parents walk all over her, tired of them treating the things that were important to her like they didn't matter, and tired of the backwardness of it all. _Any other animal..._

"Judy, get him out of the house now! He is bleeding on the floor!" Bonnie yelled, as she walked towards the phone phone on the wall.

Her mother's heartlessness was shocking. Bonnie was many things, a fighter, hardworking, loving. Many things indeed. Judy would have never thought before now that "cruel" was one of those things. This was something she simply wasn't prepared for, and she stood there gaping, trying to process what she had just heard.

The fox was trash. That was what her mother was saying. Trash that could be discarded out of hand, not even deserving a moment's second glance. She realized her mother had never even made a move to help treat his wounds, even now while she dialed the police she simply wanted him thrown from the house. It was appalling. This was cruelty on a level Judy had never experienced, a blatant disregard for a fellow mammal that Judy just couldn't comprehend. That it was coming from one of her parents was all the more galling. She never saw it coming. Never.

She hadn't seen a lot of this coming, she thought wryly. She had been taken off guard by her parents a lot over the past day. She should have been prepared for it. These things had been slowly building over the past 2 years, even longer really. The speciesism too. She had grown up with it all around her, though she supposed she hadn't realized the depth of it.

The beep of a phone key being pressed tore her away from her thoughts. Her mother was dialing. She had to stop her, she had made a promise. The pedestal on which she held her parents was crumbling, but that was one value she would certainly hold on to. She would always keep her word. She was going to stop this.

"NO!" She screamed as she leapt towards her mother. Bonnie started at the sound and her gaze shot towards her daughter. She didn't even have time to react before Judy had torn the phone from her paws and smashed it against the floor.

"J- Judy, what have you-"

"I said no, mother! We are going to help this fox, just like we have helped other mammals who needed it. If you want him to stop bleeding on the floor then you had better help me stop it." She gave her mother an icy glare. She was immensely disappointed with her, and she radiated a cold fury.

Bonnie stared back at her for a moment, and then let out a defeated sigh. Judy watched as her mother knelt down next to the fox and began to inspect his wounds, resigned to assisting the wounded mammal.

"Judy, I don't know how much I can really do here…" She trailed off, clearly shocked by the extent of his injuries. "It's shaking…"

The fox _was_ shaking, Judy realized, but she didn't understand what that meant. Was he cold? The hall was by no means cold, it could even be called warm.

"The fox is a _he_ mother."

"I don't see how it matters." Bonnie goused back.

Judy rolled her eyes and turned towards her siblings who packed each doorway that lead away from the hall.

"Max!" She called out more forcefully than she meant to.

"Y- yes?" Came the hesitant reply from a white spotted rabbit looking on at the scene from the second rank.

"I need bandages right now. Go get them."

"But its for-"

Judy sprang up and stormed towards her younger brother, he face a mask of fury.

"You will go get those bandages right now or so help me-"

"Okey! OKEY!" He squeaked as he bolted down the hall towards the infirmary.

"And bring a blanket!" She called after him.

Judy returned to the foxes side and looked at her mother.

"What can we do mom?"

Bonnie looked up at her and bit her lip. "I- I don't know. Not much. We need to clean his wounds and stop this bleeding for good, but I can't do anything for his shoulder… or his leg."

Judy looked him over. Her mother was right, they needed professional help. They couldn't do this on their own.

"We need to call the police. They can-"

Judy fixed her mother with another cold stare which stopped her in her tracks.

"No, that isn't happening." She pondered for a moment. And then it came to her. "We need to call Dr. Wright!"

Dr. Wright was the family doctor and had been since before Judy was born. He had helped deliver her in fact. He was semi retired at this point, the Hopps family being the only one he still saw. The old hedgehog had been there for ever major Hopps medical event for the last 25 years and Judy hoped he would come through for them again now.

Bonnie gasped. "Judy, we can't call him!"

"Why not?" She asked as she gave her mother a wary glance.

"He'll…" She trailed off again as she looked down at the fox.

"He'll _what?"_ Judy demanded.

Bonnie glanced up at her daughter and withered under her glare. She didn't respond, just shook her head.

Judy dialed the doctor.

Dr. Wright didn't even ask questions, he was on his way out the door before Judy even hung up. _Bless him_ she thought. At least someone around here cared enough about their fellow mammal to help them when they were in need, regardless of their species.

Now all they had to do was wait, and she sat on her haunches next to the fox resolving to say nothing to her mother until the doctor arrived. Bonnie seemed to agree to the arrangement because she said nothing as they sat. Judy glanced around the room the ring of her siblings were slowly drawing closer. Where was Max?

"Is that a fox?" Asked a small voice behind Judy.

Judy turned around and smiled at her sister Dalila, she obviously hadn't been paying close attention the arguing. "Yes it is."

"Is it one of the Greys?" Asked one of her brothers.

"No, Reggie, I don't think so."

"Foxes all look the same, how can you even tell?" Reggie replied.

She shot him an exasperated glance. "He is not one of the Greys." She replied firmly.

"Aren't foxes dangerous?" A murmur of agreement spread through the crowd.

It was clear what her family felt towards foxes, but she still wasn't able to answer the question. In fact, she wasn't even sure how to reconcile what she thought she knew about foxes and what she had before her. _This_ fox certainly wasn't dangerous, not for the moment at least. For now he was no more dangerous than the smallest kitten. But when he woke up? Judy pushed the thought from her mind. He would be no more dangerous then too, she told herself, only half believing it.

"No, he isn't going to hurt anyone." She gave her siblings her most reassuring smile.

 _Darnit, where's Max?_

The infirmary wasn't far, and Judy couldn't imagine what was keeping him…

"Martha!" She called out.

"Right here Judy!" Came the enthusiastic reply from her bi-spectacled younger sister.

Judy smiled inwardly. At least one of them seemed excited about this.

"Go find Max. We need those bandages. And the blanket"

"Right away Judy!" She called as she bolted from the room.

She probably should have sent her in the first place Judy reflected. But how was she to know that some of her siblings might hold the same sort of contempt for the fox as her mother did?

Judy looked back towards her mother. She looked rather disheveled sitting there putting pressure on the fox's wounds. The sight caused Judy to feel a pang of guilt. Her mother worked hard to maintain a delicate balance in the house, and Judy had just thrown a fox shaped wrench in all that. _Well,_ she thought wryly, _maybe we will all learn something from this._

"Judy! Judy!"

Martha was back.

"Judy I have everything, I didn't see Max anywhere."

Fury momentarily swept through her and she gritted her teeth against it. Max was going to rue the day he blew her off like this. The fox might've died, and he would have contributed, even if only just. But now was not the time to dwell on it, and she unconsciously smoothed the fur on her head.

She let out a sigh and her fury left her with it. "Thank you so much Martha." She said as she took the bandages from her younger sister and began wrapping up the injured fox with her mother.

"Oh Martha, one last thing."

"Yeah?"

"Let Max know he had better sleep with one eye open tonight."

Dr. Wright arrived 15 minutes later.

The Doctor had swept into the house like a whirlwind. He had brought his equipment with him, most of it in fact, but he couldn't treat the fox alone, and he constantly shouted orders to the Hopps's who had stayed in the entrance hall to watch.

The fox's external injuries had not been life threatening. The gashes would leave scars, and would take a while to heal, but after they had been cleaned, the Doctor had sutured them up quite nicely. The arm was a much more serious concern. Not only was his right arm dislocated, but the humerus had an oblique displaced fracture a few inches above the elbow. It could have been much worse, but Wright was concerned that it would need pins to heal correctly. He set the arm in a cast and hoped for the best. He didn't have the resources to pin the bone at hand, and worse came to worst, he would just have to rebreak the arm if it wasn't healing correctly. That wouldn't be fun for the fox, but the arm would get better eventually. The leg was in a similar condition. Broken fibula, which the Doctor set to rights in only a moment, and a broken ankle, which had been twisted at an odd angle. Again, with the help of a small portable x-ray machine, he was able to deal with the injury.

All things considered, the fox could have been much worse off. He had a few broken ribs in addition to the arm and leg, but his head and spine were fine, aside from a probable concussion,, and so was his tail, more or less. And they had moved him into a guest room, where they pushed a few beds together to allow the fox to lay down.

They still had one major problem however, the fox was hypothermic. Spending the better part of a day in a river will do that to a mammal, even a healthy one.

Dealing with the hypothermia had probably been the worse part for Judy. The Doctor had demanded that she remove his wet clothes, and she had not been prepared to see the fox naked. She had stood there staring at the poor fox until her mother had hissed in her ear and pulled her from her trance.

The Doctor had left after giving them instructions as to how often to change bandages, replace the IV fluid bag, etc. Judy's mother had demanded to know when they could dress the fox again, and the Doctor told them once his temperature was back to normal. But he had promised it wouldn't take too long if things went well. He would come back the next day to check up on his new patient but told them to call immediately if things got worse.

He had left then, and it seemed to Judy that her family had left with him. Not a one had spoken to her since the doctor had left, not even Martha, and Judy was left to brood about the injustice of it all, and on the health of the fox.

Her mother had forbade her from entering the guest room he was in, but the moment her mother had returned to the kitchen Judy defied her. The fox was only alive now because she had helped him, and there was no one on the earth that was going to stop her from checking up on him.

The fox was propped up in the bed, thoroughly packed with blankets. He looked almost peaceful, for the first time his face didn't seem to be contorted in distress and pain. And she realized that he was actually quite good looking, as far as foxes went at least. His sleek features certainly had an allure to them, and they stirred something in Judy that she had never before been aware of. She blushed furiously, the color even showing under her grey fur.

Good god, what was wrong with her? For a brief moment she imagined running away with the fox, the foreignness of it all exciting. But most importantly she imagined him freeing her from her parents. He would take her far away, and she could be who and whatever she wanted.

 _God Judy, this is pathetic._

The whole fantasy was extremely embarrassing, and she quickly pushed it from her mind. She was glad the fox was unconscious, he could not have failed to notice her silliness otherwise.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself. This fox would not help her get away from here. If anything this would just make it more difficult. She suspected that she had burned up any goodwill from her mother for a while, and she had no doubt her father would be just as pleased as her mother was when he found out that there was now a fox living in his burrow.

Judy chuckled. Boy she had really made mess. It was gonna be tough the next couple of days… But such is life. She knew she had done the right thing, and she was glad she hadn't backed down.

It struck her then that she had no idea who this fox was. He really could be anyone. Foxes had a way of getting themselves into all sorts of trouble, and she thought that if she had an idea as to who he was she might gain an inkling of how he ended up here in the first place. She looked around the room for his clothes and found that they were still piled in the corner where she had left them. She searched in the pockets of his shredded pants. There had been something there when she removed them, but she had been a little too distracted to take much notice. She found was she was looking for and she withdrew the surprisingly heavy object from the pocket.

Her breath caught in her throat.

In her paw was the magazine to a pistol.

She jerked away from it in surprise and it fell to the ground with a distinct thud.

This was bad, really bad. Guns weren't totally outlawed in Zootopia, but pistols certainly were, unless you were a member of law enforcement, or in the military. This fox didn't look like either of those, and there was nothing else in his pockets to give her even a clue as to his identity.

The left only one option. The fox was a _criminal._

Judy began to panic. She had brought a criminal into the burrow! No wonder he didn't want to go to the hospital, he was on the run! And she thought back to that brief exchange by the river. How he had expended the last of his energy to stop her from calling the police. How he had pleaded with her not to call. Now she felt like a fool. This fox had played her. Had appealed to her empathy and it had worked wonders.

"Of course it was a _damn_ fox." She immediately covered her mouth with her paws, and scolded herself for swearing. The fox didn't stir.

She was as bad as her mother. She shouldn't just assume he was a criminal because he had a magazine. Right? He may very well have the right to carry it. Maybe he was an undercover cop, or part of the mayor's security detail, or maybe even a spy! She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it. If he were any of those things what the heck would he be doing in Bunnyburrow? Plus, there were no foxes on the police force anywhere as far as she knew. Yeah, he was probably a criminal.

But it's not because he was a fox, she reminded herself, it was because he had a part of an illegal firearm. She realized then that there could be numerous reasons why he might actually have something like that, even if he wasn't a policefox, and it was not like he had the actual gun. She wasn't sure about that actually, and she searched the small pile for anything else. She came up with nothing.

She had no idea what to do from there. She knew she shouldn't automatically assume the fox was a criminal, be she was finding it harder and harder to imagine an alternative. And what did that mean for their current situation? Should she call the police? Should she tell her parents?

God no, there was no way she would tell them. That would be one of the dumbest things she could ever do. But what about the police? If she called them now after she had fought so hard to prevent her mother from doing it should have to deal with some hard questions later on. But was it worth leaving this fox here when he might be a dangerous criminal just so she could avoid having to make up some elaborate lie for her parents? Probably not she decided, but then she thought back to how he had pleaded with her. Had made her promise. All it did was make her feel more and more like she had been manipulated.

She heard a noise and turned towards the door.

"I'm home!" Came the distant call of her father as he entered the burrow.

Judy was out of time for now, and she looked back at the fox. He wasn't going anywhere, even if he was a vicious criminal. She would have more time to consider all this, when she wasn't lurking about in a room from which she had been forbidden, and when she didn't have to rush off to be the first one to intercept her father and explain all this.

She grabbed the magazine and slipped it into her pocket, it would be no good if anyone else discovered it, and rushed out to greet her father.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone, I bring you the next chapter in my story!**

 **I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to leave a review. I always appreciate feedback and I can answer any questions you may have.**

 **I don't only any Disney characters.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

All was blackness.

Nick heard many things, was aware of many things, though as if all from a great distance.

He felt and heard the vibrations of a loud machine carrying him to some unknown location, smelt the freshly tilled earth and diesel fuel. The rabbit was struggling to drag him somewhere. He heard arguing and shouting, her anguished voice demanding that he be taken care of, no matter his species. "We would do it for anyone else _mother!"_ He felt the ministrations of someone called Dr. Wright, and could smell that he was being moved underground – the warm, slightly old air, oppressive.

He hadn't quite lost consciousness, but there seemed to be gaps in his perception. One moment he understood the world around him with perfect clarity, only for it to slip from his grasp the next.

After one gap, he returned to a world of deafening silence. After another, he heard the doctor scolding someone. "Do be sure you change these bandages on a regular basis, every few hours, I don't want to come back here next time and find them in this state."

Time seemed to no longer move in a straight, orderly line. It came and went as it pleased, and did its best to elude him. He could not be sure whether one thing happened before another or after the next. But then such considerations had no meaning in this expansive, inestimable world of blackness. And he had no concern for the loss of structure, or understandable rules.

Yet not all his perceptions failed him. The pain lingered. Even though he knew the sensations were dampened by the Doctor's concoctions, he still felt the aches across his body, the pain in his arm and ankle, felt as the doctor inserted the needle.

Nothing mattered. Nothing. He was nothing, no one. And he floated on the currents of time and space. Drifting… drifting… Reality slipped from his fingers, entirely beyond his grasp. He lost the thread of everything and the events around him lost all meaning. The voices, touches, feelings all melded into a single sensation that tickled at the edges of his being.

And then, slowly, things began to move again. It all came back to him, moment by moment, before the flood gates opened and everything came rushing back in a torrent. His mind tumbled, struggling to keep up with the sensations, thoughts, _memories._

And then, there was only one thing at the forefront of his mind.

He was hot.

Really hot. So hot that he was baking.

But there was nothing he could do. It was as if his whole body was wrapped in a cocoon, and it was on fire.

He carefully tried to move each of his limbs. Needed to confirm that he hadn't in fact lost any. Yes they were there, though his right arm and leg hurt very badly. The arm especially, its every twitch sending bolts of pain up his shoulder.

He carefully listened to the room. Not wanting to let anyone know he was awake if he didn't have to. He was still much too weak to defend himself, and if he was right, his arm and leg were broken. So he wouldn't be going anywhere soon. Best to let whomever had him think he was out of it.

He paused in his search. Who had him exactly? He wracked his brain and realized that he had no idea. The last thing he remembered was driving to a warehouse hoping to find evidence that Sorrel was feeding information to the MSS through the most powerful mob boss in Zootopia, Feodor Koslov.

Sorrel, that damn tabby.

The memory came into focus. Nick had overplayed his hand, and as a result carefully laid plans were in jeopardy. The Zootopia Intelligence Agency had been infiltrated by the Arctica Ministry of State Security, and judging by the cable intercepts, it had been going on for years and the infiltrations ranged far beyond just the ZIA. The decrypted messages had allowed them to pinpoint a few of the mammals secretly working with Artica, Sorrel for instance, but Nick and his superiors had no doubt that the rot had gone much deeper. Nick's mistake could very well have made it obvious to the MSS that some of their older messages had been deciphered and all would be for naught. However, as far as Koslov knew, Nick was just another crafty fox looking to get ahead in a business in which they excelled. He didn't even know his real name. If he didn't put the pieces together then the whole operation should remain safe from that end. But Sorrel wasn't such a fool, and he had access to much more information. Jeffrey Sorrel was an administrator in the Polacra Section. The section responsible for the continent of the same name situated to the south. He was once a field agent and had proven himself to be a gifted section admin. He would be aware of Nick's sudden disappearance, and it wouldn't be too hard to connect the dots. The revelation of duplicity had been hard to swallow, and Nick had been assigned to prove the validity of the accusations. If he were to be honest with himself, dealing with Koslov probably hadn't been necessary. The intercepted diplomatic cables, for they originated from the Arctica embassy in Zootopia City, had repeatedly referenced an operative known by only the letter "C". Nick had intercepted two messages from Sorrel's office signed with only that letter. At least in the intelligence world, that was more than enough evidence to convict someone. But Nick had been hesitant to pull the trigger, not wanting to destroy the career of such an illustrious operative, and had decided that he would run a small operation to confirm what he already knew.

Nick had secretly fed Sorrel bad information which had forced the MSS to react. What Nick had been hoping to find in that warehouse was the product of that reaction. But all he had found was the mutilated body of one of his own informants. But he needn't have been there at all. The simple fact that Mr. Hamtaro had been sending him information that Koslov was receiving an emergency shipment from Arctica should have been proof enough. There had been no reason to get his hands dirty like that. But he had wanted to be _absolutely_ sure. And now here he was, apparently recuperating in the hands of bunnies–

His eyes snapped open.

He remembered the rabbit that had pulled him from the river. He remembered her voice… The strange way it seemed to resonate with him… and he shook off the feeling that he was being manipulated.

He took in his surroundings. The room was dark, the only light a pale cylinder coming through the small round window on the opposite wall.. He wondered how long he had been out, it hadn't been night when he had met that rabbit, and he searched the room for a clock. 2:51 AM read the digital display next to his bed. Well he wasn't in a hospital and he was thankful for it. It looked like that little bunny had actually followed through on her promise. If he ever saw her again he would have to remember to thank her. He saw that his clothes, or what was left of them, were piled in one corner and he suddenly realized he was naked. An overwhelming sense of vulnerability swept over him. But his every effort to move set jets of pain up and down his body. He soon realized that he would have to be content his nakedness, he wasn't going anywhere soon anyway.

He had to give that rabbit credit though, she had seemingly done a pretty good job patching him up. He broken arm was set in a cast and so was his leg, and his shoulder, which he assumed had been dislocated at some point based on how tender it was, was properly relocated. Perhaps she was a doctor or something? The idea struck him as unusual, rabbits were usually farmers as far as he knew. But they certainly would need medical attention from time to time; actually, probably most of the time, so there must be rabbit doctors. That set this one apart then, she was probably the rare bright bulb among a sea of dullards. Just how bright would have to be determined.

Not too bright _surely,_ she was still a bunny afterall. A memory slowly came into focus, he had heard her arguing with her mother about him. Why would a doctor live with her mother. Lots of reasons actually, now that he thought about it. But he would have to be careful, he had no doubt that his welcome in this place, wherever he was, was tenuous at best. Yes, there were too many unknowns to come up with any sort of concrete way forward, but to survive he needed something. Even a simple plan would help set his mind at ease.

He set his head back down upon the pillow, fully intending to set to work straight away, and closed his eyes.

* * *

The brightness of the room woke him and he blinked, bleary eyed, at his temporary home. It was the room empty aside from himself. He glanced at the clock: 4:07 PM. He had slept more than 12 hours, and by how exhausted he felt he suspected that he would be doing more of it. He gazed around the room again, trying to identify changes. His clothes were gone, which was fine because they were a mess, and he wasn't wrapped in a cocoon of blankets anymore, which was probably why he wasn't overheating anymore. The bandages wrapped around his body had been changed too. And he was clothed now, which left him feeling far less vulnerable.

He listened carefully to his surroundings, not wishing his conscious state to be discovered. Satisfied that he was alone, though he recognized that if any sort of clandestine device were present that his ruse had been long exposed, he took the opportunity to get a better look at the room around him.

It was a modest space, not unlike an alcove in the wall of a church. It was as if he was in one half of a dome that had been neatly bisected by a wall painted in a cool blue. The whole room was that color in fact, and the color gave the place a shadowy feeling despite the bright afternoon light pouring in from the small circular window set into the apex of the far wall. That was an escape route he noted, and it didn't look well secured against such an attempt. As for him, his bed was against the inner wall in one of the two corners. Actually, _beds_ was more correct, for he lay upon at least three all pushed together to account for his length. _That_ made him wonder. Who has so many beds just laying around? Maybe this was some sort of bunny hospital? Ah, no, wait, these were bunnies he was dealing with after all. He had no doubt that they needed plenty of beds.

It was then he heard someone approaching the door and he did he best to look as though he was asleep. The door opened and whomever it was paused in the entryway, apparently checking on him. Then they entered and carefully pulled the chair that had been sitting by the doorway next to him.

He felt the bed shift slightly as the interloper leaned against it. He remained still and prepared for the worst.

"I really need you to wake up and not be a terrible mammal."

It was her. The rabbit who had saved him. She sounded no different than when he had heard her on the river bank. Her voice was melodic, comforting. He willed her to speak again, his train of thought completely derailed.

"My parents are a half second away from killing me. And if you turn out to be a criminal…"

She sounded sad and weary, and for a moment Nick wanted to reach out and comfort her. But at the same time her words gave him pause. A criminal? What was she talking about? What would give her that impression? He pondered the question for a moment before coming to a grim realization.

He was a fox.

Bunnies don't like foxes.

He cursed inwardly. He shouldn't be so surprised by this. Prejudice between predator and prey was quite prevalent in the Zootopian society. It was so bad that an Artica propaganda minister had once commented that "Zootopia still collars predators" in response to criticisms of Arctica's mammal rights treatment. Things had gotten better since then, predators hadn't been collared since about 12 years before he was born, but they still had a long road to travel.

"Please get better."

The rabbit took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

He could almost feel her smiling at him, and it made him uncomfortable. He was supposed to be mad at her for her speciesism but the way she acted was just so disarming that he couldn't help but make excuses for her. She genuinely wished for him to get better, and that at the very least, endeared her to him. Nevertheless, his reaction was confusing. She was just a bunny. He had known a few over his lifetime, and they were unremarkable creatures. Too complacent for his taste. But this one seemed different. She wasn't the timid and flighty stereotype he had expected, no one who could be described that way would have pulled him from the river like she had, and she had even allowed a fox into her home. She was defying his expectations, and that made him curious.

A voice in his head shouted at him, " _Stay detached Nick!"_ It brought him back. This rabbit, whomever she was, was a problem. She knew he was here, knew he was alive, and that simple fact made her a threat to him, no matter how good her intentions. But she was getting under his skin; _had gotten_ underneath his skin. And so easily too. He didn't understand it, but knew instinctively that it was wrong. She was a threat, and would have to be managed. Anything more than that would simply make everything harder, and he couldn't tolerate that, not in his state.

Without warning the rabbit stood up and left the room, and Nick was left to ponder just what exactly what wrong with him.

* * *

7:38 AM. Nick had done a lot of sleeping again, though this time he actually felt well rested. He still really couldn't move, much too weak even after all that rest, but he decided that he was beginning to get better. The pain was less as least.

After the rabbit had left the previous day, he had spent some time reviewing in his mind all the evidence that had been gleaned from the decrypted diplomatic cables. Sorrel had not been the only operative named. Besides him there was a "K", an "N", a "G", a "W", and a "T". Six mammals in total, assuming each letter referred to just one, and if they were anything like Sorrel they would be well connected and in positions of responsibility. There was a good possibility that at least some of them weren't even in the ZIA. Only C, and N had definite indications that their work related at all to the ZIA. The others sounded as if they could be in other parts of the government. Nick would have probably been tasked with rooting them all out at some point but for now C and N were his priorities. Sorrel had been careless and had been identified within a few months but the search for N had turned up nothing so far.

For a moment Nick imagined what he would do when he got his hands on Sorrel and this mysterious N. He knew that the best course of action was to do nothing, but part of him wished that wasn't the case. He was not the vengeful type, well, not usually, but this sort of betrayal he took very personally. Yes it was best to leave them alone. The operation to decrypt the diplomatic cables, Project Zanona, was top secret, and if the informants suddenly stopped feeding information to the MSS it would be obvious that their system had somehow been compromised. That meant new encryption techniques, new code names, new drop spots, new everything. They would have to start from scratch, most of their previous work wasted. No that wouldn't do, it was best to simply allow the double agents to happily continue on their way, but minimize the damaging information they could have access to. Leaving them alone also opened up a number of interesting avenues for retaliation that would be a shame to squander.

A shout down the hall tore him from his reverie. Two mammals were arguing and it was getting closer. He still couldn't make out what they were saying but it was becoming clearer and clearer by the second.

"–you know why we can't keep him here, I shouldn't have to explain it!"

It was the voice of a male, older, deeper, probably the patriarch of this burrow.

"No Dad, I think you will have to explain it! He is an injured mammal! We have always taken care of our neighbors when they needed it!"

The rabbit and her father.

"He is an injured fox and he is not our neighbor!"

They were outside the door now, their shouting clear as day. Nick settled back into the bed, pretending once again to be asleep.

"So what?! Who cares if he's a fox!?"

The door slammed open and the two rabbits stormed into the room.

"Your _parents_ care Judy! You have brought a dangerous predator into our home. What if he wakes up and eats half the kittens?"

Nick resented the accusation. He _was_ dangerous, but certainly not to these bumpkins. It was unfair of them to assume he was some sort of deviant, but then again he wasn't that surprised. These were bunnies after all, how could he expect anything else? At that moment he decided he was tired of pretending to be asleep. He was hungry, had to use the bathroom, and he wouldn't tolerate some yokel insulting him, nor foxes in general, and he was gonna do something about it, something rash. They didn't notice him stir.

"Dad?! He's a fox, not a monster! Look at him, he's harmless!" And she gestured towards him, though neither looked.

" _Because_ Ju–"

"I think _mostly harmless_ would probably be more accurate." Nick interjected.

You could have heard a pin drop.

Both rabbits stared at him in shock, the argument entirely forgotten.

The seconds ticked by but no one moved. Nick realized he had to break the ice, and decided to lay it on thick.

"Would you like to hear a joke?"

The older rabbit twitched.

"It's a good one, I promise." Nick plowed on, "there was a farmer who at the end of the harvest took all his grain to the miller so he could turn it to flower. When the miller was done with his work, the farmer, feeling much abused, told the miller he felt 'that there was nothing so brave and valiant as the collar of the miller's shirt.' The miller, not understanding him, asked what he meant, to which to farmer replied, 'Because every morning it had a thief by the neck!'"

A profound silence followed, both rabbits staring at him incredulously.

Slowly, the older rabbit's face contorted into an expression of pure mirth. A broad grin spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle which quickly grew into unrestrained laughter.

"Ah ha ho ho ho ha ha, now _that_ was a good one! 'A thief by the neck!' By golly that's a clever one!"

The younger rabbit stared at her father in confusion. It was clear to Nick that she hadn't understood the joke.

"He he he he," her father continued to wheeze out, "Dontcha get it Judes? 'Thief by the neck!' I have to go tell your mother that one, she will love it!"

And with that he hurried from the room, laughing all the way.

The remaining rabbit, Judes, Nick supposed, stared at the doorway for a moment before turning towards him, eyes wide in confusion.

"You didn't get it?" He asked her, trying to suppress the pleased grin that had spread across his muzzle. This was going so well.

She didn't respond.

"Ok, well you see, millers were, and maybe still are, I don't know I'm no farmer, notorious for stealing some of the flower they were supposed to give back to the farmers after they processed their grain. So what the farmer is saying is that every morning when the miller buttons his collar, he is buttoning it around the neck of a thief! Get it?" He nodded at her, giving her his most encouraging smile.

She stared at him for a moment longer, incredulous, and then her features softened, understanding spreading across her face. She let out an embarrassed chuckle.

"That… that was a terrible joke, just awful." She replied, a reluctant smile playing on her lips.

"He he, I know. But it's the only farming joke I know!" He chuckled back at her, shrugging, which he immediately regretted. The action had tweaked his arm and he stifled a groan. He saw her make to dart forward towards him but she caught herself, and instead she stood there bashfully, gazing at her feet.

"The Doctor says you are lucky to be alive. All your wounds and then you had to fight off pneumonia. I was really scared for you, I didn't think you'd make it."

"Well," he was embarrassed by her concern, and he momentarily struggled to respond, "thank you." It was all that came out.

"No problem," she replied.

And awkward silence followed while the two of them searched for more to say.

"So what's my prognosis? I am sure my arm and leg it only the half of it."

"Oh, well, your leg should be fine apparently, though the Doctor says you will have that cast on for quite a while and–"

"Whats 'quite a while' exactly?" He interrupted.

"Uh, maybe two months? If the healing goes well."

Two months? A mix of apathy and frustration swept through him. On one hand being down and out for two months would be nice – he hadn't had time to relax in a long time – but that break would also set back his work accordingly, and _that_ was a problem. Still, there was more to consider,

"And your family is going to let me stay here for two months?"

She suddenly looked nervous, "well, uhm, I don't think we have thought that far ahead yet. And it's not like you will be stuck in bed for two months! You can leave whenever you are ready, of course."

"What if I want to stay here until I am all better?"

She gazed at him wide eyed, and it was clear to Nick that she had never even considered the possibility. Nor had he, if he were being honest, but he was testing the waters. He wanted to knew exactly where he stood.

"I mean, as I said, I don't know if my parents would allow that. I could ask them… I guess." She finished reluctantly. Obviously not relishing the opportunity to ask that question.

"Well, don't worry about it, we can cross that bridge when we get to it." He threw her a reassuring smile. "There is no need tread on any paws just yet if I don't have to. Though it seems like I am treading only plenty already," he said, giving her a knowing look.

The rabbit let out an embarrassed chuckle and her eyes flitted to the floor.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. My parents really aren't happy that you are here. Foxes and rabbits and all that…" she trailed off, reluctant to finish the thought. "Though my father seems to be warming up to you." She said wryly, glancing at the door, clearly surprised at how quickly her father had been diverted.

It was at least clear that one bunny around here cared for his wellbeing. He would have to remember that. He had an advocate, and it would be poor form to alienate her.

Nick quickly changed the subject.

"So your name is Judes? That's an interesting name. Sorta like that song," he offered.

She gave him a startled look and began a reply but hesitated.

 _Bunnies,_ he thought as he watched her.

"Not Judes, eh? Should I call you 'rabbit' then? Maybe 'bunny'? You do have a name right?" He had to stop himself from making too much game out of her. He had been about to ask if her parents had even remembered to give her one, but he knew the moment the jab entered his mind that he would regret it.

Even so, her expression changed to one of annoyance but she still declined to answer him. Instead she stood there biting her lip, nose twitching furiously. He hadn't crossed a line yet.

"Oh my God, rabbit, spit it out. You look adorable standing there all troubled, but I think it's customary in a conversion for there to be a back and forth between two or more individuals."

Again her face momentarily twisted in irritation, but his prodding apparently had the desired impact. She seemed to steel herself for a moment, before she looked away from him in obvious embarrassment and squeaked out,

"Y– you're not– you're not a _criminal_ are you?" she visibly cringed even as she asked the question.

Ah, there it was.

Nick could feel the fur on the back of his neck bristle. He remembered what she had said to him yesterday when she thought he was unconscious. And he found himself annoyed at her for making such an assumption simply because he was a fox. He had to give her credit though, when she was arguing with her father she had clearly been defending him from those sorts of insinuations. He sighed inwardly. Perhaps he should give her the benefit of the doubt, just for a moment. She was seemingly an ally here, and beggars couldn't be choosers. There would be plenty of time to resent her afterwards if she really was cut from the same cloth as her father.

"Now, before I answer that, _what_ exactly makes you think I am a criminal?"

She seemed startled by the question and she stumbled over her response,

"Oh! Well– I– uh... I looked in your pockets, and I found this." She withdrew one of his pistol magazines from her pocket.

He blinked at it, confused as to why having that would make him a criminal. He cocked his eyebrow as his gaze returned to her. She answered his question before he could even ask,

"It's _illegal_ to have something like this."

Ah. Firearms were tightly controlled in Zootopia, pistols basically banned altogether, so for him to have one without any sort of means to prove he was allowed… well thinking him a criminal was not an unreasonable conclusion he admitted to himself. He also had to admit he was surprised. She had had a legitimate reason to suspect something, and hadn't just assumed he was a monster because he was a fox. He appreciated that. Appreciated it a lot in fact. It was rare to find mammals, even in the city, who would give him the benefit of the doubt like that. And to find one in a place like Bunnyburrow?

He gave her a disarming smile and let out a soft chuckle.

"Heh, no, I am not a criminal, I am just a fox that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I am also allowed to carry that believe it or not." He said, pointing at the magazine. "Can I please have that back actually? Because you're right, it is illegal for _you_ to have that."

Her eyes went wide and she looked from him to the magazine in her hand, somehow just then realizing that she was breaking the law. She gazed at it for a moment before letting out a determined sigh and look back up at him.

"How do I know you are telling me the truth?"

He narrowed his eyes at her in annoyance, frustrated at the position she was putting him in. She seemed to retreat from him then, though she hadn't moved. She held the magazine in her paws tight to her chest and stared fearfully into his eyes. It was like she expected him to attack at any moment he realized. He could smell it in the air. Smell her fear. She was about to bolt. She eyed him with immense apprehension, nose twitching furiously.

He was taken aback by it. Here he was, half dead, barely able to move for the pain, and this rabbit was acting as if he was about to rampage through the burrow.

 _Rabbits._

The whole scene confused him. What was he going to do to her? To any of them? Eat them? There were far too many to eat in one sitting, and besides, he didn't eat mammals. He felt his position slipping away from him, becoming more and more precarious by the moment.

He had to diffuse situation. He needed her to be his advocate, and it was important for one's advocates to _not_ be afraid of you. Vital even.

"Look," he assuaged, "I don't have a good way of proving it to you, as I am sure you noticed, I don't have any ID on me or anything like that." He sighed for effect and wondered how to approach this. He was about to lie through his teeth of course, but that didn't bother him. He had spent so much of his life lying that it came as second nature now, but this was a particularly delicate situation and this was a particularly important lie. "I work for the ZPD as a special investigator." It wasn't a good lie, and under close scrutiny it would quickly fall apart, but he ran with it. "I am working undercover, or, well, I was. Until I ended up here."

He couldn't read her at that moment, and he had the terrible feeling that she didn't believe him. He doubled down on the lie, really more of a half truth at this point, switching his story wouldn't save him.

"The mammals I am investigating… well, I screwed up and they figured me out. It was a stupid mistake on my part, and I think you will forgive me if I don't elucidate," he looked away, playing up his apparent embarrassment, " But, anyway, I messed up, they worked me over, and threw me in the river. Probably expecting me to drown."

He glanced back at her and knew then and there that he had hit a homerun. It was as if she was a different rabbit. Gone was all the fear and worry, replaced by what he could only describe as awe. Her mouth hung slightly open as she watched him intently and she seemed to lean forward expectantly, willing him to continue.

 _Damn_ he was good. He had her now, just as he had had her down by the river. He obliged her desire.

"So, they must think I am dead now, but I am not, entirely thanks to you," he ran his good hand through the fur on his head, " _That_ puts me in a perfect position. No one knows I am alive, except for you good folks here of course. People don't find what they aren't looking for."

"Was it the Tundra Town Mob? The mammals you were investigating?"

He looked at her, stunned. How the hell did she know who Koslov was? She was just some country bumpkin. The Burrow was a place crime rarely touched. How did she know? A terrible possibility tore its way back into his mind. These bunnies were somehow associated with Koslov's crew. A place like this would be perfect for hiding a drug factory of some sort, and no one ever suspected the rabbits of any sort of criminality. He was going to die now, in this god forsaken hole in the ground surrounded by these grey monsters.

"Are you investigating Koslov?" The rabbit seemed to quiver as she asked the question.

Yup, this was it, he was going to die.

"I– uh– well…"

"Oh my gosh! Say no more! I know you can't talk about it. Oh my gosh!" She vigorously tugged on her ears in her excitement, "That is so cool! I didn't even know there were any foxes in the ZPD! Are you the first? What's it like being a cop? Oh my gosh I am so glad you are ok," she was going a mile a minute now, almost stumbling over herself in her eagerness to ask him questions, and she leaned over the edge of the bed towards him, her fear long gone. How long had he been a cop? What precinct? What was a 'special investigator'? All questions asked in quick succession. She didn't even give him a moment to answer them.

Even if had had known the answers to any of these questions he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to answer them. He couldn't believe her attitude change. His lie had been bad, very bad even, and totally full of holes. Why would it matter to an investigation whether or not they knew he was alive, and why wouldn't it be important for the police to know about him being alive? These questions went unasked and therefore unanswered. Nick was just happy he had somehow hit the jackpot. He had his foot in the door, much more easily than he would ever had imagined, and as long as he didn't screw it up, the rabbits might just tolerate him until he could walk.

His attention finally turned outward again and he realized she hadn't stopped her rapid fire questioning. He slowly raised paw to silence her.

"You're very cute but you gotta slow down rabbit. How can I answer your questions if you don't even take the time to breath in between them?" He gave her a sly grin, and almost winked, until her saw her expression had quickly changed. An hesitant look of disapproval hung on her face.

"Uhm, can you not call me cute?"

He blinked. "Uh– yeah, sure," he replied, momentarily put off balance by the non-sequitur.

"Yeah, I know it sounds strange but it's really not ok when other mammals call bunnies cute. It's just– we are a lot more than the way we look, and I personally don't like being defined by that."

"Oh, ok, yeah I am sorry, I didn't know." He wondered why he was being so apologetic. Must have been the painkillers.

"Yeah it's no problem, it's just part of the reason why a lot of mammals don't take bunnies very seriously. I know I can speak for more than just myself when I say that I don't like that. So, if you could just– not." She smiled at him apologetically, as if she felt she was making a big deal out of nothing.

It wasn't nothing though, Nick knew that very well. That was very close to how he felt about rabbits. Cute, but not worth a second glance. But he recognized that foxes were subject to a number of derogatory stereotypes themselves, and if she didn't want to be called cute he would make an effort not to, for now at least.

"I totally understand, us foxes have similar problems, as I think you know. Some mammals even think that we are predisposed to _Criminality_ " He gave her a teasing smile.

Her ears turned a deep red and she looked away. He had to stop himself from needling her further.

"Ah heh, yeah. Sorry about that," she said.

"Don't worry about it rabbit."

"Oh, also, don't call me 'rabbit', my name is Judy Hopps."

"But," He said, sucking his teeth, "you are a rabbit aren't you?"

"I, uh, well yeah but–"

"Then I don't see what the problem is rabbit. Be proud of what you are!"

She let out an exasperated laugh and groped for a response.

"But– now you're just–"

"Now you wanted to know about what I do?" He said, laughing at her agitation.

She stopped and looked at him, searching his face, wary that this was another part of his game.

"Yes." She said tentatively.

"Ok, well ask away, but you have to give me a chance to answer them this time."

She furrowed her brow at him, clearly thinking " _foxes!_ " Nick smiled inwardly at her expression. He liked her, she was a good sport.

"Ok, what precinct are you in?"

He had no idea how the precinct system in Zootopia worked of course, and he knew of only one, Precinct 1. It happened to be the precinct that the ZIA office was located in.

"I work in Precinct 1 when I am not out and about."

She gasped. "No way! That's the center of the city! Only the best officers get assigned to that precinct, how did you do it?"

"What, you don't think I am a good officer?"

"No no no!" she said placatingly, "I meant what did you do to get there? It's not easy."

Nick scolded himself, he kept inadvertently making his story harder and harder to keep straight.

"Well," he said, stalling for time, "I didn't start there, I was originally in Precinct 7." Again Nick inwardly kicked himself. Was there even a Precinct 7? Maybe, maybe not, but gambling like this was, frankly, stupid. She apparently knew a lot about the ZPD, and it wouldn't be long before it became obvious that he didn't.

"Oh! That's the center of Tundra Town! That makes total sense. Did they move you over for the investigation? I bet you dealt with the Mob a lot huh?"

Nick blinked. She had literally handed him an alibi. He couldn't believe it.

 _I'd best be careful, between this and the warehouse I have just about used up a lifetime of luck._

"Yes actually, that's basically what happened. I don't know if I will stay in number 1 at the end of this but I hope so! I like the city center way better than Tundra Town. Too cold, too crookid."

She chuckled, this time totally unrestrained, and Nick was again struck by the quality of her voice. It was strange, to be affected by a voice like that. But something in hers just seemed to resonate in him. He was a guarded individual even on the best of days. His childhood, and now his profession, demanded it. He had spent his life building walls, but something about this rabbit seemed to weaken those defenses. She wasn't tearing them down, oh no, it would take a herculean effort to pull off something like that, but he just felt… comfortable in her presence. It wasn't just her voice, it was everything about her. She was just so genuine, so conscientious. He could almost feel her interest and concern radiating off of her. As they sat in that little guest room chatting, Nick found himself content in a way he could not say he had been in some time. And he was profoundly unhappy when it ended.

They both heard the call, a female, probably her mother, was calling for Judy to attend to breakfast.

She looked at the door.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go… Oh! You're probably starving!" She looked him over, concern spread across her features. "I don't know that we have anything you could eat though, we aren't predators you know…" She trailed off.

"Foxes are omnivores, I mean, run it by me before you try to force it down my throat, but even if you forget that step I will probably be fine."

She lit up, relieved. "Oh good. I'll get you something after I am done dealing with everyone else."

She was halfway through the door when he said,

"Thanks, Judy."

She turned back towards him in surprise but her visage quickly softened to something he could only describe as affection. But he was sure that wasn't it, there was no way it could be.

"Yeah, no problem," she gave him a heartfelt smile, "I'll be back in a bit with some food."

And with that she left.

* * *

It was about an hour later when a knock on the door again pulled him from his self reflection. It opened without a response and Nick was surprised to see that Judy's father was standing in the doorway. He cautiously entered the room, glancing from side to side. Seemingly pleased that they were alone he closed the door and affixed Nick with with a stare that made his fur stand on end. His instincts warning him of approaching danger.

Without a word he approached the bedside and Nick found himself shrinking away from the rabbit. But he couldn't go far, his body still much too weak. All he could do was stare back in rapidly increasing alarm, once again contemplating his own mortality.

The rabbit leaned towards him, his face set in determination, his dark eyes flashing.

He asked gravely, "Mr. Fox I have a question for you," he glanced over his shoulder back at the door, "do you know any more jokes?"

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next will be out in two weeks!**

 **Bits of this chapter were inspired by my favorite author Patrick O'Brian, specifically that incredible joke. If you haven't read his works I highly recommend them.**

 **You may be wondering why I declined to start the whole 'Carrots' thing. I promise that will come, but at the moment I think Nick is in a fundamentally different place than he was in the movie when he made up that name. He doesn't want to get himself kicked out, and pissing off his host is a good way to do that I think. So the condescending attitude that created the name just doesn't make sense at the moment.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello everyone!**

 **I know I missed last Friday, I am sorry about that. I knew that I would be away this past weekend, but after working late Thursday I fell asleep editing. Anyway, know that this delay will not interrupt the schedule of the next chapter. No reason to make you guys wait any longer because of my poor planning!**

 **Any questions or comments are of course welcome. I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **I don't own any Disney characters.**

* * *

Breakfast had not gone well. The food was fine, of course, and there'd been no fighting, but the whole affair it had been tense. The shift in mood her father had displayed upon hearing the silly joke didn't last long, and he had barely said a word while the family ate in the expansive dining hall. Her mother had been little different, though because it was Judy's task to help serve, some communication was certainly required. It was kept strictly logistical however, and Judy found herself thankful that her parents were apparently content to save any more discussion about their new guest for another time.

Silence would have been been difficult to achieve even under normal circumstances in the Hopps burrow, but now that there was a _fox_ there? If she were to be honest with herself, she knew she should have expected the uproar the fox's presence would cause. But she had hardly had any sort of respite from her questioning siblings in 3 days. At breakfast she always got the worst of it. It was the one meal no one ever missed.

Her parents had made everyone promise not to tell anyone outside of the burrow about their new tenant. Having such a character around would have had an impact on their reputation in those parts. Consorting with predators was considered a sign of degeneracy. The greater burrows community wouldn't have cared about the circumstances under which the fox had come to be in the burrow. That he was there at all, and in such a capacity, would have been reason enough to question their standing. And the Hopps family certainly had a reputation to uphold. Most rabbits were farmers, the lifestyle seemed to come naturally to them, but there was something special about the Hopps family. Her father had mentioned his sister Sylvia's green thumb, but truth be told his thumb was no less so. And the Hopps family produce was consistently considered amongst the best in the Tri-Burrows area. It wasn't for nothing that their stand was so famous that even high class restaurants in Zootopia and elsewhere sent buyers to peruse their goods and stock their kitchens.

Simply having dealings with predators was not a problem of course. Money was money, and few would take issue with arms length business transactions, but actually living with one was a different story.

So her parents had pried promises of secrecy out of each and every one of her siblings and cousins and in-laws and everyone else who lived there, hoping to keep this little scandal contained. But Judy knew it wouldn't last. About two dozen of her siblings had seen the fox in the entrance hall and less than 15 minutes after the whole burrow knew about what had transpired there, just like the whole burrow knew about all the fighting Judy had been doing with her parents. There was no real way to hide much of anything in a rabbit family. The dynamics just didn't allow it. Rumors spread like wildfire. And it really wouldn't be much different with the outside world. Bunnyburrows was a big place with a small town attitude. Neighbors kept tabs on each other and gossiped furiously about what they knew. It would only be a matter of time before someone slipped up. And it wouldn't take long for neighbors to notice the change in mood at the Hopps burrow, the moment that happened the whispers would begin.

And that wasn't the only risk. Judy knew her family really couldn't be trusted to hold on to this secret for long. Even those with the best intentions can slip up, and a number of her family certainly did not have those in mind. Her parents weren't the only source of resistance to allowing the fox to stay for the time being. Many of her siblings and in-laws were vehemently against allowing the fox anywhere near them or their kittens. And they had made their fears very clear to Judy's father over the last three days. Her younger brother Max had made his feelings abundantly clear that fateful afternoon in the entrance hall. And that sort of brazen contempt for the fox's wellbeing had been, much to Judy's horror, commonplace. Judy was honestly amazed that they had even allowed him to stay thus far, but she supposed that the fact that he had been totally unconscious had prevented anyone from doing anything rash. If he was out cold he couldn't hurt anyone after all. But now even that wasn't true, and Judy wondered how quickly things would deteriorate once the news spread beyond her parents and herself. And so, the promise wouldn't last long. Maybe another few days, perhaps a week, if it had even lasted at all. Soon all hell would break loose, and Judy would be at the epicenter.

And that _poor_ fox. He had done nothing to deserve any of that. In her short interaction with him he had been nothing but a gentlemammal, and he was a police officer! Regardless of what most foxes were this one had managed to rise above that. Rise above any predatory tendencies and was actually doing something to help society. Yes, she decided, he was one of the good ones. Proof positive that not all foxes couldn't be trusted. That he… that... he...

Judy's train of thought ground slowly to a halt. What was she saying? Did she actually know any foxes besides him? Well, yes, the Greys, but besides their son being a bit of a bully when they were young they certainly didn't have a reputation for being aggressive, or cheats, or anything like that. They mostly kept to themselves of course but as far as she knew they were quite friendly. Certainly no less so than anyone else in the Burrows at least. And the one recuperating in one of their spare bedrooms was apparently no different. Maybe he wasn't _one_ of the good ones, but instead one amongst many? What if foxes were like any other mammal? Friendly and kind and just trying to make their way in life? What would that mean then? And what did it say about her that even then she really didn't believe it?

She sighed. This wasn't helpful. She didn't completely trust the fox in her burrow just yet and she had good reason not to. She believed he was a police officer, or she desperately wanted to believe it, but even so, he was a fox and frankly the only fox she had ever interacted with that wasn't a total jerk. She would reserve her judgement of this one till she knew him better. And she definitely wanted to get to know him better, she admitted to herself. He was just so _interesting._ An undercover police officer investigating the mob? _Yes, please!_ Come what may there was no way he was leaving here without finding out more about being an officer, and how he had done it. She suspected she would run into similar troubles in her efforts to join the force and she just had to know what she would face.

The fox would just have to stay. This was just too important, she was going to be a police officer and the bigotry of her family was not going to get in the way of that. If protecting the fox was the hill she had to die on then so be it. The fox would– she stopped, suddenly torn from her reverie, and blinked. _The fox?_ She didn't need to keep calling him that, they had introduced themselves to each other. His name was… what was it? Oh, wait, no they hadn't. She had introduced herself to him but she hadn't even asked his name. She couldn't believe herself. She hadn't even asked his _name._ There was nothing so basic as that and she couldn't even be bothered. It was the very basis of common decency. The least you could do for someone was ask their name. What must he think now? That she was no different than the rest of her bigoted family? Intent on keeping their relationship at arms length as she possibly could? That she was intentionally demammalizing him?

She looked down at the plate she had been scrubbing dry for the last five minutes. She was lucky her mother hadn't noticed. It was Judy's responsibility to help with breakfast on the weekends and that involved cleaning up afterwards. But her mother was all about efficiency and if she had noticed Judy wasting so much time she would not have been happy. Instead she was on the other side of the large kitchen scrubbing down the stove and oven.

"Mother?"

 _Mother_. The very word said so much about the mood between them.

"Hmm?"

It was all Judy received in reply to her question. To be fair, that type of response wasn't unusual when her mother was concentrating on something, but given the circumstances it felt like a slight. As if her mother was annoyed that Judy had spoken to her. She had been giving Judy the silent treatment ever since their argument above the wounded fox.

"I'll be right back."

Bonnie stopped scrubbing but didn't look at her daughter. She seemed to consider the request, if it could be called that. But after barely a moment more she replied, "Ok, hurry back."

"Thank you."

And with that Judy grabbed the plate of food she had prepared and hurried from the room.

Moving about the burrow as of late had been a chore. It was impossible to avoid everyone when in a rabbit burrow, and the general feeling towards Judy at the moment was such that she couldn't go anywhere without someone saying _something._ At first it had been nothing but whispers, but her family had grown bolder in expressing their displeasure over the past three days. She had heard it all, or so she thought, and that sort of treatment was beginning to wear upon her. She had begun to take less direct routes to things unless she couldn't avoid it.

And she did that now, taking a side passage away from the kitchen in which she had never seen another soul. It was strange to her that places like that existed in her burrow. Forgotten hallways and corners collecting dust. But she was thankful for it, if only because it saved her from being called a _predophile_ for the umpteenth time. She had responded vehemently against that particular accusation at first, but now she did her best to ignore it just like the rest. Reacting only seemed to embolden her tormentors. Taking the road less travelled meant she got less of that.

She arrived at the end of the passage and peeked out into the space beyond. The large hallway was thankfully empty, and it wasn't far to the fox's room. She still couldn't believe she hadn't asked his name. She was almost offended _for_ him. Hopefully the offer of food would smooth over any resentment he might hold about it. Yes, she smiled as she walked down the empty hallway, she had no doubt that everything would be fine.

"Where're you going Judy?"

Judy practically jumped out of her fur. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn't even noticed anyone behind her. She whipped around, and much to her relief, saw Martha, the one member of her family who seemed to be genuinely happy to have their unusual visitor.

"Oh my god Martha! Don't do that, you almost gave me a heart attack."

Martha shot her a wry smile and said, "I think Judy, that you might just need to pay better attention."

Judy let out an amused and breathy chuckle, "Yes, perhaps that's true."

"So where are you going with all that food? To see the fox?" She gave her a significant look, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. Judy was a little taken aback by her tone and was momentarily afraid that even Martha would join in with the chorus of sneers and jeers Judy had withstood over the past few days. "Can I come?"

Oh, that's what she wanted. Judy scolded herself for having so little faith in her sister. Martha had always been a bit of a rebel. At 13 she had run away and had been gone for a whole week. Her disappearance had sent the local community into a frenzy and left her parents despondent. She showed up a week later and the only explanation she would give for her absence was that she had wanted to see the world. And she apparently had, or the local world at least. She was certainly the youngest Hopps to leave the Burrow in more than a generation. That had been three years ago, and not much had changed. She seemed to enjoy upsetting the peace and quiet of the Hopps home. Judy knew that the chaos the fox was causing was probably a big part of the reason why she seemed so happy to have him there. Nevertheless. tt made Judy feel as though she had an ally – not her only one, but certainly the most vocal, and that made her happy.

"Uh, _why_?" She gave her sister an sceptical look. Ally or not, this could only spell trouble, and Judy didn't need any more of that.

Martha shrugged innocently, "I don't know, I just want to meet him. It's not every day we have a fox living in our home. I think he could be fun!"

Fun? No, that wasn't how Judy would have described him. Interesting, she felt, was a better descriptor. But, no. There was no way Judy was going to bring Martha with her. She could of course meet him whenever she wished without her. Martha was no stranger to ignoring their parent's demands, and they had been unequivocal about forbidding anyone from visiting him. Judy suspected however that even Martha didn't have quite the courage to go see the fox by herself. For now at least.

"Yeah, Martha, I really don't think–"

"Dad was really curious about where you keep disappearing to right after your shifts at the stand. He said you usually stick around to help clean up. But now? I am sure you wouldn't mind they know exactly what you were getting up to" A devious grin spread across Martha's face. Judy was right where she wanted her, or so she thought.

To be honest, the prospect of her parents finding out about her boyfriend, Jeremy, didn't excite her. The talk of marriage would begin immediately, and while she really liked Jeremy, it was much too early to get hitched. She hadn't even told him that she wanted to be a cop. But all things considered, diverting her parent's attention from the fox in the house would be excellent, even if it would be an embarrassing diversion. Judy enjoyed wiping the smug look from her sister's face.

"Go right ahead, I am sure they would be very excited to hear it."

Boom.

Her sister was clearly reeling, she had not expected Judy to react that way, and she floundered for another route of attack,

"I'll tell them–"

Judy held up her paw, "Martha, stop trying to blackmail me, you can come." It just wasn't worth it, Martha would tag along no matter what she said, and frankly Judy had no idea what other dirt her sister might have had on her. It was better to just let it happen.

"Ohmygod, thank you! You are the best!" Then she stopped, and gave Judy a sidelong glance, "wait a minute, he isn't even awake is he?"

"Martha, why do you think I have all this food? If he is out he can't eat."

Martha considered this for a moment, and then, seemingly satisfied at her explanation, turned on her heel and walked down the hall towards the fox's room.

She looked over her shoulder back at Judy as she turned the corner and said, "Well? You coming?"

Judy momentarily stared after her, and then nodded.

They didn't have far to go. The fox's room was just around the corner and perhaps another 15 meters down the next passage. But as she came around the corner she hesitated. Martha was pressed against the wall next to the doorway, peeking into the room. The door was ajar, which was not how she had left it, and Judy was suddenly afraid that the fox was gone. Somehow able to hobble off into some dark corner of the burrow to hide, or even crawling away through one of their numerous fields. She approached carefully, fearful of what she would find.

"Martha, what's u–"

"Shhhh" Martha motioned for her to stand next to her against the wall.

"Be quiet, Dad's in there."

"What?" Judy was truly alarmed now. She had somehow managed to maintain control of her family's access to the fox, and that had seemed like the best way to ensure that the he was allowed to stay for the time being. Him waking when he did had been unexpected, and she honestly wished that her father had been left ignorant as long as he could be. She certainly hadn't expected him to go speak with the fox on his own however, and it threw all sorts of wrenches into how she planned this would go. And what she heard inside only made the pit in her stomach grow deeper.

"Do you understand me fox? You put even one toe out of line, and you are out of here. I don't care if you have to crawl back to where ever you came from."

A mix of emotions swept over Judy. Her heart went out to the poor creature laid up in bed. Here again he was on the receiving end of her family's ire, which he in no way deserved. But… He could stay? She was elated, and she had to stop herself from bursting into the room to hug her father and then push him from the room. She leaned around her sister to get a better look. She had to see it to believe it.

Her father was practically leaning over the fox and was poking his finger into the fox's chest, who winced every time her father touched him. The fox had shrunk back deeply into the bed, clearly doing his very best to get as far from her father as possible, his eyes wide in what could only be fear. She couldn't believe it. Any good feeling towards her father were gone in an instant.

"Let me be clear, the only reason you are still here at all is become some members of this family, and they shall remain nameless, believe that we should extend the same courtesy we would to our neighbors to someone like you. Remember that fox, you are on thin ice, and–"

"Dad stop! You're hurting him!" Judy just couldn't hold herself back anymore.

Her father, who had continued to poke the fox harder and harder as his monologue continued, jumped, startled by the interruption. He looked back towards the door, catching Judy's glare. "I was not Judy, I just–" He had turned back to the fox who recoiled as his gaze once again fell upom him. The reaction stopped Stu in his tracks. He looked between the vulpine beneath him and his paw, uncomfortable realization quickly spreading across his features.

"Ah heh," he let out a guilty chuckle, "sorry about that mister fox, got a little– eh, _carried away._ Never one to hurt a fly myself– meant nothing by it of course. No harm done you see." The string of excuses came tumbling out, and he glanced at Judy as if looking for support. She wouldn't let him have it though, and she continued to give him the coldest glare she could manage. Finding no respite with his daughter, Stu glanced back at the fox, huffed, turned on his heel and walked from the room stopping in front of Judy who had just noticed that Martha was nowhere to be found.

His guilt and embarrassment seemingly forgotten for the moment, he fixed Judy with a glare of his own. "And just what do you think you are doing here young lady? You know this area if off limits."

It took Judy only a moment to recompose herself.

"I am bringing him food dad," she nodded down at the plate in her hands.

Her father looked at her skeptically, "well I don't want you hanging around here. You know there is a dangerous pred–"

Judy lost the thread then because at that moment she noticed that the fox was no longer watching them through the doorway, but was instead looking at something just to the left of the door wearing a look of rapidly increasing terror.

Suddenly, Martha's buck-toothed grin appeared in the half-open doorway. She winked at Judy, her dark eyes flashing, and disappeared from view.

Judy's attention snapped back to her father and she did her best to suppress her own horror at what she just saw. She wasn't worried for Martha's safety of course, the fox couldn't have done much even if he had wanted, and she sincerely believed that he wouldn't have even considered harming Martha. But this was the toe over the line that would send all her plans tumbling down, and put this _police officer_ in danger.

"–and I had a cousin who got in a fight with a wolf once and lost half his left ear! You never know what can happen with predators Judy and I don't–"

"Yes Dad I will be careful, I promise. I am just bringing him food anyway, it's not like I am here to hang out with him."

Her father stumble over her interruption, "Well… but... yes of course, I know you will be Judy, but predators are unpredictable. It wasn't too long ago that fox in there would have tried to eat us Judy."

"Dad, that was thousands of years ago, we are all more civilized now."

"Well you wouldn't know it looking at him, scruffiest mammal I have ever seen." Stu gestured his thumb towards the door.

Judy let out an exasperated groan and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Dad, I am going to go in there now and make sure he gets fed."

"I think I should go in there with you and make sure he doesn't try anything."

There was no way in the gods' green earth she was going to let that happen.

"I think you have done more than enough, what with you trying to poke your finger through his ribcage." She pushed past her father towards the door.

"Judy! Now that's not fair, I didn't mean anything by that. I was hardly touching him Judes!"

Judy looked back at him then, and fixed him with another disapproving glare. "I will be fine Dad, go away."

And with that she slipped through the doorway and closed it behind her.

The scene she found upon entering the room nearly stopped her heart.

Martha was up on the bed kneeling next to the fox leaning her head into his wide open maw.

"Wow, they really are sharp."

"Martha!" Judy screamed and bolted towards her sister, dropping the plate of food in the process. She grabbed Martha by her collar and tore her from the bed, yelling "get away from her!"

She pulled Martha towards the door, her younger sister struggling the whole way.

"Let go of me Judy! I wanted to see his teeth!" She clawed at Judy's wrist, "Let goohff–" Judy had let go of her then, and suddenly off balance, she tumbled to the floor.

Judy glanced back at the fox, who looked thoroughly alarmed, and raised his paws as best he could, attempting to look as innocent possible. Judy's mind was going at a mile a minute. She struggled to reconcile what she had seen to what she just heard from her sister.

There was a knock at the door, and it began to open.

"Judy? Everything ok?"

Her senses returned to her then, and she rushed to intercept her father before he could enter the room.

"Yes Dad, _yes,_ everything is fine. I just bumped my plate against the wall as I closed the door and dropped it. Everything is fine."

"Her father looked at her skeptically, "I could have sworn I heard you yell Martha's name." His eyes widened at the thought. "She isn't in there, is she!?" And he began to push his way into the room.

Judy resisted his efforts. "No Dad! I haven't seen Martha since breakfast. She is _definitely_ not in here." And she clandestinely kicked her sister who was still sitting on the floor behind Judy.

Her father let out a dubious sigh. "Well... ok, but make sure she knows she isn't allowed in here either."

"Of course Dad, I will."

"Are you sure you don't need me?"

"Yes, Dad," she replied, her exasperation clear.

"Ok, but be careful."

"Dad, I am just giving him food. I will be fine." And with that she closed the door on her father for the second time.

With the door closed she leaned her back against it and glared at the room's two other occupants while she listened to her father slowly walk down the hall.

"I can't believe either of you."

"HA!" The fox let out a bark of a laugh that made both Judy and her sister jump.

"Hahaha hah heheh he" his laugher quickly devolved into giggling soon followed by a hacking series of coughs. "Oh god, *cough*, you- heheh, you can't make me laugh like that. *cough* *cough* Ohhh my ribs are killing me." He wiped a tear from his eye.

Both Judy and her sister stared at the fox, dumbfounded.

"That was impressive. You juggled that pretty well eh? Must admit that I don't think I have ever seen anyone move so fast, haha! And you can trust me when I say that, I meet a lot of fast movers in my line of work. Good thing you grabbed her though," he motioned towards Martha, "I almost had her! Back towards the drawing board I guess!"

He grinned broadly at her, his teeth glinting.

Then her sister started laughing too, and his grin grew broader.

"Hahah, oh my god Judy, you are so ridiculous. You can't really have thought he was gonna do anything. You just got done telling Dad how silly that was. Hahah"

Judy's ears turned a bright red and flopped behind her head.

"That's not what I–"

"No need to be bashful Judy," the fox said sarcastically, waggling his eyebrows as her, grin still plastered across his muzzle. "Perhaps you would feel safer though if I were lashed to these beds?" He playfully snapped his jaw at her.

Martha laughed again. "Yeah maybe you would like him to wear a muzzle? Those teeth are pretty sharp! You can't be too safe!"

Judy could feel her anger and embarrassment increasing by the second. She deserved the ribbing, and she knew it, which made it all the worse. She didn't think she was afraid of the fox, not really, or at least not simply because he was a fox. But seeing her sister basically stick her head in his mouth had uncovered a primal fear in her that she hadn't been prepared for.

"That... that isn't fair! I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it! I just–" she trailed off, unable to formulate a real excuse.

"Now you sound like Dad." Martha countered.

"I–" Martha was right, she did. Oh god, she was a terrible bunny. She looked pleadingly at the fox, who winked at her and said, "don't worry about it, it happens to the best of us."

"Yeah I guess…" She replied halfheartedly. Even if he excused her behavior she certainly hadn't.

"Though I'll be sure to keep my mouth closed as best I can when you are around. I wouldn't want to send you running with just a smile."

The expression he wore made it clear to her that he was toying with her now. His eyes flashed mischievously and his grin, which had yet to leave his face, threatened to spread from ear to ear.

She let out an exasperated sigh. "I can't believe I am letting you stay here," she said as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Again, she knew she deserved it, but he didn't have to be such a jerk about it. Her sister giggling in the background only served to rub salt in the wound.

The fox's grin only grew wider still, "Yes, well, you have made your cake, now you must lie in it." He said matter-of-factly.

She blinked. "Wha– I don't think that's–"

The fox interrupted her, "now, did you come here just to make a mess of my room or was there another reason?" He eyed the food spread all over the floor.

Judy glared at him for a moment, huffed, and replied, "yes I came to bring you food," she gestured towards it, "but as you can see… I may have ruined it." The ruined meal simply served to remind her of what had just occurred and guilt welled up inside her again.

The fox eyed the food for a moment, then looked back at her expectantly. "So, are you just gonna leave it on the floor? Gimme."

"But it's been sitting on the floor…" She looked at the food apprehensively.

"I have eaten far worse, trust me." He reassured her, "C'mon, I'm starving!"

Judy looked between the food and the fox and then glanced at Martha who shrugged. "I mean, if you are alright with it…" And with that she collected the scattered meal and presented it to the infirm mammal who gobbled it up without compunction or complaint.

Martha looked on in amazement, "I thought you were a predator? Predators eat meat don't they?"

The fox stopped eating only long enough to respond, "Nope, we eat all sorts of things."

Judy watched as Martha considered this and threw her a conspiratorial glance.

"Have you… ever eaten another mammal?!" It was like she had tried to spring the question on him, it practically tumbled from her mouth.

"Martha!"Judy exclaimed, at a loss for why Martha suddenly wished to antagonize their guest. And when had she become so bloody minded?

The question didn't seem to phase him, and he answered simply, "Nope, never."

"But why not? Don't predators eat other mammals?"

The fox let out a low chuckle, "Of course not, never even thought of it. I prefer fish anyway." And he smiled at them both, the first, Judy suspected, genuine smile he had given them since they had entered the room.

"Oh fish? Well you can fish in the river! Our brother Steven loves to fish. I think he was even gonna go today."

The fox cocked an eyebrow at Martha. "Rabbits… Fish?"

Judy took the opportunity to answer. "Well, we don't eat them, so he just throws them back."

"Steven said he tried one!" Martha exclaimed.

Judy wretched, balking at the very idea. "Don't lie, that's disgusting!"

"No I am serious. He did! Said it wasn't that bad either. Looked up how to prepare it online."

Judy was dumbfounded. The idea that her brother would have done something like that had never even crossed her mind.

"Oh I have a great idea! I will tell Steven to save the fish this time and then we can make it for you."

"That would be great," the fox replied. "I have an even better idea though, I will share my fish with you. That way we can all be in on Steven's dirty little secret."

"I will not! Rabbits aren't carnivores, things like that are bad for us!"

"Neither are carrots and yet that is about half of what you gave me!" He retorted, gesturing to the mostly empty plate.

Judy opened her mouth to reply, but stopped herself. He wasn't wrong, carrots weren't really all that great for rabbits, they were just so good that many rabbits couldn't help themselves, including some of those in her family. Even so, she was left wondering why the heck a fox would even know something like that.

"I am not trying fish."

"Well," the fox shrugged, "you can't convert the converted, more for me I guess."

And from there the conversation moved elsewhere. As they talked, time passed by in the blink of an eye. Judy was beginning to get his number – or so she thought – understand him more. She and Martha had been chatting with him for far more than an hour, her duties in the kitchen long forgotten, and it had certainly been an interesting conversation.

He seemed to have been everywhere, and he told them about how different things were around the world – no two countries quite alike. And he told them about Zootopia, about all the mammals who lived there practically on top of each other, about the different districts, about all the different things to do.

Judy listened with rapt attention through each of his stories, hoping to glean as much information from them as possible. She knew quite a lot about the city already, spending long hours into the night reading about the metropolis, but this was a first hand account, and well told at that.

But she also learned things about the fox. He was sarcastic, a lot. It was as if it was his primary mode of communication. It wasn't mean spirited, though he seemed to delight in the occasional jab at her, it was just how he was. And she quickly began to believe that it was just his way of being friendly. But then, he was also controlled, and guarded, excessively so. He deftly deflected any inquiries into his past, and Judy began to wonder if their previous conversion about his career was to be the only glimpse into his personal life she would get.

She liked him, she realized. He was a bit rough around the edges, but he was funny, and intelligent, and very kind. Martha had taken to him immediately, and it was mostly her trying to pry her way into his innerworkings. But even all of her intrusive questions seem to have no effect on his mood, even if he declined to share, and he would simply grin pleasantly at her as he moved the conversation elsewhere.

That wasn't quite good enough for Judy though. She could respect not wishing to share one's life story with mammals that were essentially strangers. But he had told her that he was a police officer and she desperately wanted to know more.

"Can you tell me more about being a police officer?" She had interrupted Martha mid-question. They both blinked at her momentarily. Suddenly, understanding flooded across Martha's face and she turned, wide eyed, towards the fox.

"You are a cop?!"

The fox actually looked as though he had been taken off guard for once and he nodded dumbly.

"Oh my god! That is sooo cool! Did Judy tell you she wants to be a cop too?"

The fox stared blankly at Judy.

"You do?" he asked, a slight tinge of disbelief staining his words.

'You want to be a cop?' It was a question she had been asked more times than she could count over the last few years. And always in a similar tone, more or less.

She was offended, a little bit. Thought she didn't like to admit it to herself. It was the same story over and over, and here was another mammal writing her off before he knew anything about _anything_. She probably shouldn't have been surprised by it anymore, it had never been any different.

The two of them were looking at her now, awaiting a response. She practically spat it at him,

"Yeah, I do. There something wrong with that?"

The fox recoiled slightly, taken aback. But he recovered quickly and asked,

"You're old enough right?"

Now it was Judy's turn to be taken off guard.

"I think you only have to be 18 to join. You must be what… 21?"

"24" she responded without thinking. She didn't understand. Was he… No, that was impossible.

"Then why haven't you joined?"

It was a simple question, asked without malice or derision. But she didn't know how to answer it. Nor could she even believe it was being asked. He didn't laugh at her, call her foolish, sneer, anything. He simply asked her why she wasn't one already.

"I–"

She felt tears forcing their way into her eyes. She had never been asked that. Not by anyone. Not even her siblings, or her parents, or any of the rest of her family. She turned away, blinking back the tears. Embarrassed at her own lack of composure. He didn't laugh at her dream. The fox didn't laugh at her, like so many had before. He was being supportive. And she needed to give him an answer. She turned back towards him, tears still in her eyes, but determined to give him some sort of answer. It was the least she could do.

"Because of..." and she had to fight back a sob as she gestured around, "because of all of this."

He considered her a moment, "you know, I had this girlfriend once that was really into poetry. Like _really_ into it."

Judy stared at him dumbfounded. He was launching into another personal anecdote. Deflecting again. Her anger flared. Was he so afraid of allowing the conversation straying anywhere but inane small talk that he would disregard her feelings like this?

"The only one I remember though, was called The Journey."

Judy shook her head in disbelief. Was he really going to deflect again? She was laying a part of herself bare before him, and he was just going to brush it off.

"I really think you will like it. It goes like this:

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice–

Though the whole house began to tremble

and you felt the old tug at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

Each voice cried.

But you didn't didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried with its stiff fingers

At the very foundations,

though their melancholy was terrible.

It was already late enough,

And a wild night,

And the road full of fallen branches and stones.

But little by little, as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds,

And there was a new voice

which you slowly recognized as your own,

That kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world,

Determined to do the only thing you could do–

Determined to save the only life you could save."

Judy had nothing. No response to all of this. She understood though, exactly what he was saying. And her tears came, unrestrained. He understood... understood everything. Through the her sobs she asked him the question she had meant to ask the moment she entered the room. She wasn't afraid anymore.

"What is your name?"

"Hah," he grinned at her as leaned back into his pillow with an air of finality, "I was wondering when you were going to ask me."

* * *

 **So that's all for now! I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **I wish I could say that that poem was my own, but it isn't. The poem Nick recites is _The Journey_ by Mary Oliver. **

**Again, any questions or comments are welcome.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone! I am posting this a day early as I will be traveling this weekend. I hope you enjoy!**

 **Thank you to all of those who read and reviewed the last chapter, know that I have read each one and have replied to all those I could. I am glad you are all enjoying it.**

 **I don't own any Disney character.**

* * *

His name was John Gibbon.

That was what he told her.

Though if he were honest with himself, he regretted that lie. It was strange to him, having second thoughts over such a little thing. Something that was so necessary. He never had any other choice. He would never have told them his real name, nor the alias he used with Koslov. Doing either would simply put all of them at risk, and he wanted to lay low. Even so, despite how he justified it to himself, he was wracked by pangs of guilt he did not understand.

She had cried that day in front of him. Reached out desperately for something, anything to hold on to and he had obliged, in the process giving her a small glimpse into his own vulnerability, one which he hadn't really intended. The girlfriend obsessed with poetry had been real, and The Journey _was_ the only poem he could remember. All his life he had been told he was _just_ a fox, as if just being a fox was some sort of sad affliction. 'You're just a fox after all, real shame.' All those voices, all those mammals holding on to him. He had been trapped, by his friends, by his neighborhood, by his life. All those around him having fallen for the lie that being a predator made you _less than._ So he ran from it all, from his friends, from his poetry obsessed girlfriend who had talent, real talent, and dreams, but would never leave their neighborhood, and never achieve them. He ran from his foster family, who tried so hard for all the orphaned mammals they took care of. He ran from all of it, all of them, everything that had been his life up to that point.

He had joined the military, a means of escape for him, just like it was for so many others. Nick had done well, always a good student despite his trying circumstances, he had been given options. He was barred from some jobs of course, though not because he was a predator, or a fox, or anything like that. No, it was his small stature that barred him from being infantry for instance, the typical combat load and firearm being much too heavy for him to carry comfortably. That had suited him just fine, he was never much with a gun anyway, and he never desired to kill anyone. His placement officer had assured him that someone with his scores would be wasted there anyway. He was thinking mammal, he had been told, and the infantry weren't paid to think. So he had ended up in Signals and Intelligence; a position in which he quickly distinguished himself and somehow caught the interest of a world which he had never imagined.

He and Judy weren't so different, really. Those same voices were clawing at her even as he lay there in her burrow. They came from different quarters probably, and certainly with different intentions, but the effect was the same. She stayed around and coasted, miserable, but gritting her teeth and bearing it for her family. She wanted to be a cop? Why not let her try? It probably wouldn't work out, the prospect of a rabbit cop in Zootopia was a bit ridiculous after all. How the hell could she take down a perp more than twice her size? Like a wolf, or sheep, not to mention something like an elephant. Yes, it was a reach, but at least she could try, where was the harm in that? In his estimation it was far worse to live the rest of one's life regretting not having even tried to pursue one's dreams than having failed in them. That's what he had done, and it had worked out for him, perhaps it would work out for her too.

And maybe that is why he suddenly felt guilty about lying to her. He empathized with her. He had realized this, much to his horror, soon after she had left that day, and he had been kicking himself ever since. Empathy just complicated things, caused hesitation and uncertainty at the worst times. The military had taught him the value of demammalizing one's enemies, the importance of it to an effective fighting machine, and the ability to do just that had served him well over the last 8 or so years of his work with the ZIA. He had wanted to keep her, keep all of them at arm's length, and he thought that that would be simple, the constant animosity he experienced from the few rabbits that interacted with him made it easy to write them all off. But she was different from the rest of them. She had so much more courage than the rest of them combined. It couldn't be easy running interference from her family for him, and he had to admit that he admired her a bit for it. Truly the one bright light in this place. Even her younger sister Martha didn't have what she had. It had been shared with him that she was the family's 'rebel'. Apparently she had run away once. It was amusing to him that that was all it took to be considered a rebel in a rabbit family. He couldn't even remember the amount of foster families he had run from. But Martha, at least in all their interactions together, had been riding on Judy's coattails. It was Judy who would come see him, and apparently Martha would ask to come along, afraid to go herself. Not so afraid of him perhaps, but she certainly never showed her face in his room without Judy present.

Nick had been in the burrow for about three and a half weeks, and Judy had grown on him. He liked her, and in a different life he may have even called her a friend. He looked forward to her daily visits when she brought him food. They had made a game of reading the paper together in the morning, reacting outlandishly to interesting stories and brainstorming irate letters to the editor in response. She had also shared with him a number of her favorite books, he had asked for something to pass the time; mostly crime novels and biographies of apparently famous police officers. Even some self help books by cops. And she had shown him other police things too. A police manual that was at least 50 years old, a badge from the same era, and some buttons from a police frock coat dating back even farther. All of it was interesting of course. The books kept him occupied throughout the day; more or less. But, he realized as he lay there on that sunny morning, her singular obsession with being an officer made her a bit... _boring_. Not too much, the idea of a bunny cop was still certainly quite novel, but Nick had a wide array of interests. Politics, history, travel, to name a few, and it felt as though Judy had none of that. She was just interested in being a police officer, everything else beyond that was just a distraction. He felt a little bad for her. She would take it hard when she failed. Very hard, and when that was all over she would realize that she had really done nothing else, really had nothing else. It would be hard for her, but, he suspected, she would recover. Though he doubted she would be nearly as interesting as she was now.

Perhaps though he was being too harsh on her. He understood why she constantly pestered him with questions about his time as an 'officer'. She was trailblazing and she was scared. But her single mindedness, were it to be applied elsewhere, would probably see her through anything. She would be fine, whatever happened, and probably better for it.

 _Oh god,_ he groaned inwardly, _I am rooting for her now._

And he was indeed. He hoped she succeeded. If anyone deserved to achieve their dream it was her. And she certainly wasn't asking for the world. All she wanted was to leave the world better than she found it, and, he was embarrassed by the very thought, she had certainly already succeeded, at least in small part. He was better off having known her.

He scoffed at his sentimentalism. When had he become this way? Was it recent? Or perhaps deep down he had always been like this, and it just needed a bit of encouragement to come out? No, he decided, this was recent, he had never been one to connect with others in this manner. That cursed bunny was bringing it out in him, and he resolved to scold her for it.

No, no, he wouldn't do that. That seemed much too much like flirting, a territory into which he refused to stray. Though as he thought about it, it seemed that he had long passed that line.

He shuddered at the thought. Was he really so pathetic? So miserable that he would throw himself at the first warm body that showed him any kind of kindness? And not just a warm body, but prey, a _rabbit_ no less. It wouldn't work out even if he was interested, and he certainly wasn't. How would something like that even work? Actually, there was nothing to think about, it simply wouldn't. He wasn't interested and neither was she, so there was nothing to worry about.

Gods he was pathetic.

He looked over at the clock. It was mid morning and most of the Hopps family would be out and about doing whatever it was that they did. He wouldn't see Judy again till much later, every day except for Sunday she would work the stand for most of the day and it would only be around dinnertime that she would have the chance to stop in. He let out a disappointed sigh. It would be another boring day. Around lunchtime Judy's mother would bring him food, but she was never one for much conversation, try as he might to pull one out of her. She would enter the room in silence, place his meal on the bedside table and promptly leave. He had gotten her to help him hobble to the restroom once, but even then the best he had gotten out of her was a simple nod at his thanks.

Of course, the day didn't have to be a total waste. He considered the new crutches leaning against the opposite wall. The doctor had given them to him just the day before, but had said given the condition of his arm and shoulder that he should wait a little longer before using them. His ribs were coming along nicely too, he wasn't made to double over in pain every time he laughed anymore. Perhaps today, he would take them for a bit of a spin. Nothing crazy, maybe just down to the bathroom. Despite his stay since those first tumultuous days having gone quite well he was still very conscious of the precarious position he was in. And besides, he didn't wasn't the reinjure anything. As nice as it was to be doted upon by a charming rabbit, he wanted to get back to his life before it moved on without him.

He had actually been considering asking Judy to send a letter for him to his friend, and sometimes partner in crime, Finnick. Finnick was the only contact he had from his old life, but then Finnick had always been of a different breed. It had been him that encouraged Nick to join the service and make something of himself. He had saved Nick in more ways than one, and in return Nick had dragged him along with him into his new life. He didn't work for the ZIA, not officially anyway. But Finnick had his fingers in everything, and his contacts had been invaluable in setting up informants all over the city. In return the ZIA had set him up quite nicely. He still mostly lived out of his van but he certainly never had to worry about money again.

Yes he would send him a coded message, using the last key he could remember from their set of one time pads. It's was never a good idea to reuse keys. One time pads were unbreakable as long as the keys were truly random, weren't reused, and of course as long as no one else had access to the key. Sending a message in an old key was a risk, but considering the content he felt the risk was negligible. Even if someone figured out the message, it wouldn't give them much.

He grabbed paper and pen from the bedside table. Items that had been supplied by Judy soon after he awoke, and wrote the letter:

 _I am fine. Tell them I will be back._

The encryption complete he wrote the coded message on a new sheet and dated it March 28th, the day of the last key they had used together.

He folded the sheet and set it aside, tearing up the sheet in which he had worked through the key, and sat up in bed.

He was going to try out those crutches. There was no one around and he wouldn't be disturbed. He gingerly shifted himself in the bed until he sat on the edge and waited for the aching in his side to fade. His arm and leg felt fine all things considered, it was his ribs though that were intent on making him suffer. He stood slowly, testing his good leg, wincing at every jet of pain that shot from his side. Fucking ribs.

He realized he had been holding his breath then, and he let it out in a satisfied rush. Yes he could do this, this was the best he had felt since he got here in fact. This was progress, and progress felt good.

He still had a long way to go however, and he hobbled across the room cursing Koslov and his massive bomb every step of the way.

He made it though, and he tested out his new crutches by circling the room a few times. They hurt his injured shoulder a bit, but it wasn't too bad, and at the very least he could leave the room on his own now. He had never been forbidden from it, and he knew quite well that it was far better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

And so, for the first time since he had come to the Hopps Burrow, he left his little room alone.

In the end it hadn't been as easy as he thought it should have been, getting to the restroom. The ache in his shoulder had slowly grown into something much more by the time he made it, and he hadn't gone that far. He had discarded that particular crutch for the moment, because he thought it would be much easier to get around on the one. He was right, though he had quickly come to the conclusion that the crutches were going to be painful to use no matter what he did. With the pain in his shoulder returning to nothing more than an annoying ache his ribs had returned to the forefront, protesting his every movement.

He returned to his room after he had finished relieving himself but he didn't enter. Instead he stood just outside the room contemplating the door. He had no desire to spend the rest of the day in bed. He was growing restless cooped up in there and he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it. He _needed_ to do something different, to add a bit of spice to his life. He couldn't just sit around anymore and wait for Judy to rescue him from his daily milase.

The Hopps wouldn't like that though, even Judy would probably be pretty annoyed with him, though if no one was around then perhaps it would all be fine. Either way, he wasn't going back in that room, not now that he had escaped.

He turned on his good heel and hobbled off down the hallway.

The burrow was huge, bigger than any house he had ever been in, and that was saying something. All of it hewn from the earth and stone. The network of passages and hallways seemed to stretch on forever and Nick soon came to realize that he had gotten himself lost. Not too lost, he could always follow his scent trail back to his room, but at the moment all he could say for certain was that that trail snaked away behind him. His orientation in relation to that starting point long forgotten.

That was ok though, he didn't want to go back there, not yet. He had found himself in what smelled like one of the more heavily used passages, he could even smell Judy there, and he had followed her scent until he had gotten just a whiff of food slowly wafting down the passage. He had decided to follow that too. It was still quite a while before lunch and he suspected he would be able to find the source without running into anyone. He had yet to meet a soul, and judging by the silence that seemed to press in all around him he was actually quite alone.

The hallway led to the kitchen he realized as he got closer, both the scents he was following got stronger as he approached the door. Perhaps she was inside making lunch? She would get a good shock seeing him there in the doorway far from his room, but he was sure she would be happy to see him ambulatory. Maybe she would even let him go outside! The fresh air would do him wonders, and he wanted to lay out in the sun for a while. He slowly pushed open the door and gazed into the room beyond.

Good gods, the kitchen was huge! He had never seen anything like it outside of a hotel. There was station after station of appliances and implements. Multiple 10 burner stoves, multiple mixing vats, multiple over and under ovens. He wasn't sure he had even seen such a well accoutered kitchen in all his life, and he marveled at it. There were multiple generations living in this burrow. The original Hopps brood, their families, their in-laws etc. They probably had to feed hundreds of rabbits 3 meals each day. The prospect was staggering, the logistics alone would have overwhelmed Nick who considered himself a pretty good cook, having done a six month stint as a cook at a Bicheline Three Star restaurant. He had been a decent cook before that, he wouldn't have fit in otherwise, but the experience had put him a cut above most. It had been a cover of course, the head chef and owner of the place was on the ZIA payroll as an informant, his ability to drift in an out of important social circles on account of his high status in his profession was a resource that could not be allowed to go untapped.

Nick quietly entered the kitchen looking for some sign of Judy. Her scent was so strong there, but as he tasted it more he had realized that it wasn't new, and he had been slowly losing hope that he would find her there. He wasn't wrong, she wasn't there, nor was anyone else, the massive kitchen was empty. He gazed around the expansive space, everything about it was impressive. An army could have been fed there...

He chuckled at the thought. A rabbit army? He couldn't even imagine them holding a gun, let alone fighting. There were firearms designed especially for mammals their size, but at that point they were getting into dangerous BB territory rather than real weapons. They might have made good cooks though…

He moved on from the kitchen, giving up any hope of running into Judy. Really he shouldn't have been surprised at all. It was a weekday, and during weekdays she worked at the stand. And why the fuck did he care anyway? He knew though: she was the one point of familiarity in this expansive burrow around which he could orient his world. She was it, there was no one else. It was a little sad really, that there was no one but her that he really respected in this place. But then they hadn't really given him much to respect anyway. Actually Martha was alright, but she just wasn't quite the same, the maturity level just wasn't there. Was still just a child after all.

He slowly moved down the hall now, careful to be as quiet as he could. The scent of rabbit was very strong now, and he knew he was taking a big risk by spending any time in such a high traffic area. He stopped when he heard a noise up ahead. Talking. Someone up ahead of him was talking. But there was something off about the voice. It didn't sound right. He moved closer, hoping to discern what was being said. He soon realized that the voice was coming from a speaker of some sort, and that was why it hadn't sounded natural. He was approaching the living room he decided, and someone had left the TV on, or perhaps they were still in there. He needed to be extra quiet if he wish to get any closer, and he supported himself against the wall instead of his single crutch. The soft clunk it made every time it touched the floor would quickly give him away.

He was almost there, almost at the door, and he realized he recognized the voice emanating from the room.

"–the recent escalation of tension between Arctica and Zootopia is, frankly, a result of nothing but the reckless foreign policy pursued by this government. The PM and his cabinet are marching us off to war!"

"But Mr. Valadeo, what have you to say about the accusations from Arctica's neighbors that they have been illegally interfering in their domestic matters, and that their recent military exercises signal aggressive intent?" Asked a an unseen female.

"They are nonsense. The nation of Arctica has legitimate interests which they have every right to protect, just as we protect our own."

Ah yes, the _preeminent_ David Valadeo. An MP, who despite being the leader of a minority party on the opposition, seemed to command the attention of the media on an almost constant basis. Of course, it was because he had a tendency to give them controversial sound bites, even if they were utterly devoid of substance. The antelope seemed to love being as contrarian as he could, even if it meant supporting characters that in no way could be described as savory. In this case, Arctica had been in negotiations with some of the neighboring countries for a series of new trade deals. When things weren't going their way they held massive military exercises on the border, and threatened to cut off oil and gas sales. A grim prospect for some of the smaller nations at the table who relied on Arctica for their energy needs. The government of Zootopia saw the threats as an opportunity to supplant Arctica's hold of the energy sector of the region and had committed publicly to make up any losses with their own production. Zootopian oil was more expensive, a result of the distances it needed to be shipped, but at least Zootopia would never threaten anyone with invasion, or so they said. Arctica had reacted to the gesture about as well as could have been expected.

Valadeo had been on the ZIA's radar for a while. He was a member of the National Security Committee, a parliamentary committee that worked to formulate policy and goals as it related to the Zootopian intelligence community. It provided oversight to the ZIA's work, and so it was intimately familiar with *most* of the ZIA's operations. Every member of the committee was vetted, knowingly or not, by the ZIA when they were appointed to the NSC. The ZIA couldn't get anyone removed from the committee directly, but they could tailor their briefings to make them as vague as possible if they felt one of the members was a risk. Some things didn't show up on that dosier however, like whether or not the member in question was actually supportive of the ZIA's mission. Valadeo was certainly not after all, and that obstructionist prick had often done his best to throw wrenches into any plan he could. Nick had been the target of his ill will on more than one occasion, as he had been ordered to testify before the whole committee during one of their numerous secret sessions. It was strange though, outside of those meetings Valadeo was as amicable as could be. He had even invited Nick to various social events he was hosting, and joked with him about his having to be a hard-ass on the committee. It was all just politics Nick had been assured and Nick had to admit that if it were not for his constant meddling he would like the antelope. But he did not, Valadeo was an ass, and Nick enjoyed watching him constantly put his foot in his mouth on national television.

"Artica has never done anything but react to the provocations and aggression of its neighbors. They have refused to deal with Arctica fairly, mistreated their citizens, and fomented unrest. There is even evidence that the protests surrounding the recent election were bankrolled by none other than this government!"

Hah, that last part was true to an extent. Nick had been _intimately_ involved protests that had torn through the Arctician capital of Muskova the year before. His network had provided safe havens, supplies, communications networks, and all sorts of other logistical support to the protesters and their leaders. The protests were legitimate of course, the election results had caused spontaneous gatherings around the city, but Nick had done his best to ensure they had turned into something more. He was not the spark, but he certainly provided the fuel. All of this was little more than rumor outside of the mammals he had overseen. He had been given a broad mandate in Artica, and suffered under very little oversight, so there was no official paper trail recording that particular activity. But the Arctician government had been quick to look for scapegoats to explain away the protests and that had been one of the explanations they had settled on. Nick had no doubt they had an inkling as to some of it, but doubted they understood the full scope of the operation he had ran. It didn't matter though. they had little or no evidence that they were willing to share with the world, if they even had any at all. Official statements from governments still carried quite a bit of weight in this day and age, regardless of the content.

Nick peaked through the doorway from which the newscast was emanating and found himself gazing into a cavernous living room. It was empty though, except for a single rabbit, the ears of which could just be seen poking above the back of the large couch situated in front of the TV. As much as Nick wanted to watch the rest of the broadcast, he knew he couldn't stay there any longer. This was a high trafficked area and there was an unknown rabbit sitting just meters away from him. He was already taking a huge risk leaving his room, there was no reason to compound that by taking even dumber ones.

As Nick moved on his surroundings began to change. Pictures of the family covered the walls, each generation with their own row along the wall. Hundreds of smiling bunnies everywhere, and he noted that each picture of an individual had their own little name plate beneath each photo. He caught some names he recognized, Martha seemed to be the only picture on the wall in which the subject wasn't beaming at the camera and was easy to spot. But there were others too. He saw Bonnie and Stu, Steven, who had been a godsend with his ability to seemingly conjure fish from thin air, even Max, the young rabbit who had been content to let him bleed out on the floor, at least that was how Judy told it. Most of the names and faces he didn't recognize, the pictures seemed to stretch endlessly onwards, but the arrangement was quite charming. It reminded him a little of his own parents, before he lost them, they had a similar wall in their apartment, though the one he stood before was on a much grander scale. It wasn't a happy memory. After he had been released from the hospital after the accident he had spent hours standing before that wall and gazing longingly at the smiling pictures of his parents, hoping against hope that his new reality was nothing but a horrible dream.

He looked away from the wall. The happiness in the photos making him uncomfortable. They were lucky, all of them mostly inoculated from the terrible world that surrounded them. He wondered momentarily if the reason why Judy's parents had had such a negative reaction to him was because they recognized him for what he was: a piece of that horrible and frightening existence. His very being a rot which they feared might take root in their idyllic burrow.

He somehow doubted it.

These were bunnies after all. The a perfect case study for the theory that ignorance is in fact 'bliss'. The world flowed around their little burrow, and nothing ever changed for most of them. They grew up to be farmers, married, had far too many children who would also grow up to be farmers, and then died without so much as making a single ripple in the world. They had no idea who he was, what he had done or could do, the power he wielded. They never would, most of them would go about their lives regarding his presence in their home as nothing more than a peculiar blip in their otherwise boring and inane lives. All of them– _except_ _her_ – and in that moment he had noticed the picture of the one rabbit in this whole burrow who actually, probably, had the potential to make something of herself: Judy Hopps. She, like the rest of her family, was positively beaming, but this picture was different from the rest. She was wearing a graduation gown and she stood amongst a milling crowd of similarly dressed mammals, flank on either side by her very happy parents. She looked radiant standing there. Proud of what she had accomplished. And she should have been, Nick reasoned. She was probably the only one in her family to ever have enough ambition to even try college. Such a goal was far out of reach even for him. No college would ever accept some poor fox who had never even completed middle school. He had known for a long time that he had been impossibly lucky every since he had joined the military. They had recognized his talents, even if he was a bit rough around the edges, and utilized them accordingly. So well had they done so in fact, the his work came to the attention of the ZIA, who found even better ways to keep him busy. He felt bad for Judy then. He had had a troubled childhood, but at least his family hadn't held him back. Not that they could have, being– he stopped, the thought too painful in that moment. He recollected himself and returned his gaze to the picture, but it had lost its luster, its impact lessened now with the uncomfortable associations it brought up in his mind. He took one last look at the display before continuing on and decided that he would never come back here if he could help it.

Nick hobbled onwards, he had had a vague and foggy goal in his mind when he set out: find Judy. But that he been long given up, and he knew it had never been realistic anyways. Now though, he simply wanted to escape this labyrinth. He was exhausted, his wounds still far from healed, and he half wished he had never left his room. He persevered however, like he had always done. No one would ever call him a quitter. That dogged determination to carry on soon paid off however, as Nick found himself at the threshold of a large sunlit atrium with two wooden doors at the far end. The air smelt fresh here, and Nick quickly realized, much to his excitement, that he must be in the entrance hall of the burrow. This would make all of it worth it. He rushed across the space as fast as his injured body would carry him and soon he found himself standing in front of the double doors. Though this time, he wasn't afraid of them exploding, at least not physically. And with that less than comforting thought in mind Nick left the burrow for the first time in more than 3 weeks.

It was beautiful, everything was beautiful, the sun, the sky, the cool crisp mid morning air, the green grass, and the sudden and palpable sense of _freedom._ He was out of that oppressive hole in the ground, and back where he belonged. He knew he would have to go back in a little while, he wasn't ready to leave this place just yet, but his newfound mobility was liberating in a way he could never have imagined. Here was proof that he was getting better, that he could return to his normal life and get back to what he did best. But in the short term it meant he wouldn't have to have Bonnie escort him to the restroom just down the hall, an embarrassing daily ritual he could live without.

This is what he needed all along, to _do_ something. Not just lay around and rot away in the room the Hopps family had begrudgingly provided him.

The yard before him wasn't empty, though there was little of note. A long, snaking driveway lined by wind breaking trees led to a large garage. And the green grass of the yard seemed to stretch on forever. There was one thing he took note of however: about 150 meters from the burrow entrance was a massive radio aerial.

Nick gazed at it quizzically. It didn't look like professional equipment, some of which could soar more than 1000 meters into the air. It looked distinctly amateur, like it had been thrown together on a wing and a prayer, though perhaps that was unfair. It was certainly sturdy, that much was obvious. And the shack situated at its base was anything but ramshackle. The whole thing was out of place however. Nick was surrounded by all the facets of an agrarian lifestyle and this electronic monstrosity stood out like a sore thumb. His curiosity got the better of him and he decided to investigate. The worse that could happen at this point was the rabbits kick him out. This little foray into the burrow had demonstrated to him that he was healthy enough to get around on his own, and while he may have been on the verge of exhaustion just finding his way out of the burrow, he knew he could manage back in the city. Even if "managing" meant holing up in his apartment and having his meals delivered to him. He chuckled at the idea, the ZIA would gladly pay for a service to keep him fed, but it would be so much more pleasant to torment Finnick and make him do it instead. Though he had no doubt that any food that Finnick brought him would be of suspect quality. Yeah, it would be worth it to make him miserable, even if it meant Nick would die of food poisoning.

Nick had never been a radio expert. They had always been a tool to him, a means to an end. All he ever needed to know was how to use them, and how to keep them working. Radios had always been an extremely useful, but less interesting cousin to the computer in his eyes. With the advent of the computer radio was simply less relevant these days. Some mammals however apparently hadn't gotten the memo. The inside of the shack was absolutely jam packed with radio equipment of every description and, it seemed, of every era. The walls were lined, floor to ceiling, with equipment, and Nick quickly surmised that at least 30 operators could fit comfortably in the space, each with their own station complete with computer and various types of radios. He was surprised to find that he even recognized some of the equipment, there was an old SCR-508 on a shelf next to the door, and even the same model base station he had in his apartment.

Nick paced around the shack admiring the setup these rabbits had. Even though he didn't really care for radios he found all of it very impressive. The space was very clean and well thought out, in stark contrast to the antenna outside. He stopped at what seemed like the most well accoutered station and took a glance at the various printouts that were piled in stacks on the desk. What he saw there stopped him dead. Numbers stations, it was all about numbers stations.

Numbers stations were a simple and effective means of transmitting clandestine messages via radio. As long as everyone was on the same page no special encryption equipment was needed. All one needed to do was get on a radio and transmit their secret message. If your code was good, it wouldn't matter who heard it, they wouldn't be able to figure out what you were saying. Numerous organizations around the world used them, the ZIA, the MSS, militaries the whole world over. They were effective, easy to setup and maintain, and for the most part, unbreakable. They were, after all, usually based on some sort of one time pad system and enjoyed all the security that provided. Nick had a couple that he listened to, depending on his location. And he could receive all sorts of information just by having a cheap and simple base station wherever he lived.

There was a moment, brief, almost infinitesimal, where Nick panicked. He had long stopped looking for signs that he had been captured by some enemy of Zootopia and he was being subjected to some sort of bizarre psyops experiment. But, things like this certainly set off his alarm bells. The moment past almost without notice, that he was a prisoner simply didn't make any sense, and he had stopped giving those thoughts any sort of credence. Still, it was an interesting coincidence, not a surprising one however. There was an understandable preoccupation with the mysterious transmitters in the amateur radio community, members of which were known as Hams. There were websites, blogs, podcasts, even whole books dedicated to deciphering these stations. Not everything about them could be kept secret of course. It was generally known who operated some frequencies, though no one outside of their operators knew for what purpose.

Nick even had a station he was required to listen to while he was in Zootopia, and he quickly found it in the stack. His station was MARL, or The Buzzer as it was known in Ham circles. The station was named after the short monotonous buzzing tone broadcasted 24 hours a day in short intervals. The buzzing meant nothing of course, it was simply a placeholder, designed at a time when automatic recording devices were still in their infancy. The sounds was designed not to trigger those early devices so that those who needed to listen for messages didn't have to sit by the radio all day hoping the catch one of the infrequent broadcasts. These days Nick just hooked his base station up to a computer and allowed simple commercial software take care of the problem. The buzzer might have been obsolete these days, but nevertheless it remained, giving conspiracy theorists plenty to think on. There were other stations too, and all of these did something different. The station Nick listened to in Arctica for instance was known as Pete because it played the instrumentation from the first half of a song called Step by Step by a famous Zootopian folk singer named Pete Seeger before it transmitted a message. The song again another solution to tripping the mechanisms of early recording devices.

He took a closer look at the documents before him. He had noticed that there was a list of the most recent recordings for some of the other stations, but so far he hadn't found on for the Buzzer. Frustrating, each station's broadcasts seemed to be meticulously documented except the one he cared about. Typical really. Ah, but then he found it. The list was attached to a clipboard, ready for the next broadcast. He noticed almost immediately though that the date on the most recent line had been from that very morning. The ident code however wasn't for him however, and he moved down the list. The station had only been infrequently transmitting actual messages recently which made his last easy to find. It had been sent three days after he got himself blown up and it read:

Mike, Alfa, Romeo, Lima. Mike, Alfa, Romeo, Lima. 87 569 BROMAL 31 17 68 44. Brian, Robert, Oakley, Michael, Anna, Leslie. – _three times!_

Without his key, he couldn't make heads nor tails of the massage, however he recognized his ident code: 86, as long as that number was in the first string, in that order, he knew the message was intended for him.. He also noticed the massage at the end written by whomever had been listening. The message had been repeated three times before the buzzing had resumed, an extremely unusual deviation from the usual format. Messages were repeated twice, no more, no less. It had always been that way since the beginning of the station, long before Nick had even been born. Nick was struck by a terrible sense of foreboding. What was he missing out on? What crisis had struck the ZIA that they would transmit a message three times? That just never happened, and he didn't like the conclusions his mind was drawing. It may be time to expedite his departure from this place. It had been an interesting diversion, Judy at least was someone whom he hoped to see again at some point, but now that he was healthy enough to move how could he continue to justify his absence from the city. He may not have been healthy enough for field work, but there were plenty of other things he could do. A plan had been formulating in his mind these last few weeks as to how to strike back at the extensive intelligence apparatus constructed by the MSS, and much of the ground work for it could be laid whether he could walk or not.

But then… was it true that a message on MARL had never been repeated three times? No, certainly not, he was almost sure of it. Nevertheless doubts began to creep into his head. Getting himself blown up had reaffirmed an important lesson that he been taught to him by one of his numerous mentors at the ZIA: _It was better to do nothing than to charge into a dangerous situation without enough information_. Information was king, and he knew he had almost none, just a normal looking message sent out on the Buzzer repeated three times. His recklessness had almost gotten himself killed a few weeks ago, he would do well not to squander the second chance he had been given by making the same mistake again.

He sighed, the tension in his body leaving him at the same time his breath did. He would give it some time, maybe another week, and he would make a new decision then. He would send his letter, watch the news closely for anything amiss, and bide his time. He still seemed to have plenty of it at the moment, and he resolved to use it wisely. First things first though, and he wrote down the message on a spare scrap of paper.

Nick turned, surveying the shack for one last time. Impressive, truly. If he had to guess, this was Stu's realm. There was nothing specifically to peg him as the ham, but he seemed the type. Though obviously he wasn't the only one, judging by all the equipment. It was time to get back though– movement at the door caught his eye. It was opening, there was nowhere to hide. Shit, shit, shitshitshitshit. There was nowhere to hide, violence wasn't an option, there was nothing he could do.

Silence was all that greeted him as the door opened. Stu stood there in the doorway, unmoving, eyes wide. And yet, somehow, he was the first to recover. "What are you–?" The question hung in the air, though it struck Nick as odd. It had carried nothing with it, no anger, accusations, fear. It had been asked almost conversationally, as if he was talking to one of his children.

"I was just…" Nick gestured around the room, "admiring your radio setup."

Stu stared at Nick in stupid, uncomprehending silence. It had been a silly response, Nick reflected, but then perhaps it had been the best one he could have mustered. Stu had been caught off guard, his anger postponed, and Nick sensed that now was the time to press his admittedly meagre advantage .

Nick went on to explain how interested he was in numbers stations. How peculiar they were, names some of his favorites, the Buzzer amongst them, speculated on their owners and purpose, and complimented Stu on his diligent recording of stations broadcasts. Nick had done so too of course, and perhaps at some point they could share notes. He was no ham of course, he explained, but he did have an antenna he could hook to him computer and listen to the chatter across the airwaves.

For his part, Stu listened on with rapt, if somewhat wary attention, and by the end of Nick's monologue, was no longer standing in the door but was instead standing beside Nick as he pointed out particularly interesting points in the print outs. Nick had, as a matter of fact, participated in online discussions related to numbers stations and the like. It had amused him when he had found out there was so much lively speculation and wild theorizing surrounding the stations, and he couldn't help but add his own silly theories. It had though, made him quite familiar with the way internet sleuths were investigating these strange broadcasts, and his intimate knowledge of their actual purpose allowed him to meld truth and fiction quite masterfully.

"You really know your stuff," chuckled Stu, finally breaking his long silence.

"Hah, I suppose, though I am no expert, some of the guys I have talked to online seemed to have devoted their lives to this. I enjoy this stuff, but I am not like that."

"Careful now, I may be one of those grognards! Ha ha! I can't believe _you,_ of all mammals, understand numbers stations. This is wonderful! You know the Buzzer just broadcast one today! Here, where is my list?" And he shuffled through the stacks on the desk until his came up with the MARL list.

"See? Look, just 45 minutes ago. What do you make of it?"

Nick had no idea what to make of the message of course, it hadn't been meant for him, and thus even if he had his key he wouldn't have been able to decipher the code. That wouldn't stop him though, he had, somehow, gotten his foot in the door with Stu, and he wasn't going to let it go. He considered the message, running through compelling wrinkles he could add to it in his mind. And then he had it:

"Now," paused for effect, "I have a theory about the Buzzer, and I would like to know what you think. Was the message read off by a male or female?"

"It was a female."

"Ah, see, I believe that one who reads it off is nearly as important as the message itself. I believe there are… five different mammals that read them off." He looked to Stu for confirmation.

"Six I believe, a new female began broadcasting a few weeks ago, though perhaps she is simply replacing one of the others."

"Perhaps," he agreed. "Now, I think that the different messengers are important. Like, uh," he tapped the page, "these messages are send by a rotating cast of characters, perhaps each corresponds with with a specific listener. Let's assume for the moment that there are still only 5 broadcasters, that our new friend on the radio is replacing one of the old ones, well, there are 5 military districts in Zootopia, the City being located in the largest. Well, then perhaps each district has a specific messenger."

Stu pondered this for a moment and then replied, "I don't think so, I don't think the station is for the military districts. I think it's ZIA." He gave Nick a significant look. "Why would the military need a station like that? And this station has been sending out messages for nearly 40 years! The districts aren't that old, and they have had more than one mammal sending out the messages almost since the beginning."

Nick was impressed, the rabbit before him seemed to know more about the station and its history then he did. He really was the grognard he claimed to be. Further, he knew that there wasn't much more he could do to defend his little theory, it had been conjured up only moments before and he hadn't fully considered all its parts. He may have been able to reinforce the position after some deliberation, but there was no value to it. It had gotten him exactly what he wanted, and they spent a great while together, their conversation meandering from subject to subject. It was as if Stu had completely forgotten the animosity between them, though Nick was not so naive to believe that it had all disappeared. It probably never would, not entirely, but at the very least his remaining stay at the Hopps burrow might be slightly less disagreeable. At the very least he may be allowed further forays from his room, supervised probably, but if it meant he got to spend more time with the one rabbit in the burrow he actually _liked_ , then he could tolerate it. He hoped that was how it turned out anyway.

Eventually, as they often do, the conversation began to peter out, and Nick groped for new topics. "Judy never told me you were into this sort of stuff. Too bad really…" He trailed off leaving the statement hanging in the air like bait.

"Heh, well, you know, she might be a bit peculiar, but I could never get her interested. She helped set all this up though." He gazed fondly around the room. An uncomfortable silence followed, neither sure what to speak of next. Stu finally broke it when he said, "Peculiar, she's always been peculiar…" He looked at Nick then, "she wants to become a police officer, did you know that?"

Nick returned the look, grinned, and replied sardonically, "Yes, _many times._ "

Stu erupted in laughter, "Hah hahah hohoho, ha ha, hehe. Yes, she certainly likes to tell everyone doesn't she? Been doing that since she was just a little kitten." He paused, and then his face lit mischievous delight. "Whhooo boy, do I have some pictures for you!"

Pictures? Yes please, he couldn't wait to give her a hard time about it. That would be fantastic. He could almost taste her mortification, see the adorable look on her face when she realized what he had seen. The oddity of all of this thought struck him then. How did he get here? Next to Stu Hopps as he thumbed through his Furbook account looking for pictures of one of his daughters. It was almost like this rabbit actually liked him, maybe just a little. He didn't understand the change of heart. There must have been more to it, information he was not privy to. Yes, that must have been it, all of this didn't make sense otherwise. The possibilities flew through his head, but then it stopped. He decided that just this once, he wouldn't question it. He would go where the tide took him. He took the offered phone and laughed right along with his new "friend".

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That's all for now, next one will be out in two weeks. Things will begin to pick up, so keep an eye out!


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone. It seems like it has been so long since I posted the last chapter, but #8 is finally here!**

 **I hope you enjoy this installment of Saving Wilde, all comments and feedback are welcome, I am pretty good a responding to them so if you have questions or anything else, please feel free to get in touch.**

 **I don't own any Disney characters.**

* * *

Judy was nervous, terribly so. She was going to take the leap with Jeremy. She was going to tell him about what she wanted to do with her life. About how she wanted to be a police officer and live in Zootopia. They had been together for four months, and she had avoided making any mention of it, so fearful was she that it would kill their nascent relationship before it ever really got started. She liked Jeremy, truly. He was good looking, intelligent, courteous, all the things she thought she should be looking for in a mate. He was a bit old fashioned though, especially when it came to breaking the mold set out for them by society. He was a farmer through and through, and proud of it. She had dropped hints, broached the subject via hypotheticals and made up friends moving away. And he had always, in his normal, kind way told her how such a thing could never work. Moving to the big city and doing something other than farming and having large families. That was what rabbits were meant for after all, he said. _Producing_. Food and kittens.

This fundamental disagreement had nearly poisoned any interest she had in him early on, but she couldn't help trying to change his mind. He was so nice otherwise, it would have been a shame not to try. It was fun, in a way, slowly turning the dial from one extreme to the other, and she had taken on the challenge with a gusto. She had never gone all the way however. Told him just why she was so interested in the city. Always did her best to disguise it with an aloof, academic air whenever she brought up the topic. As if the thought of moving was simply a fun little fantasy, but in no way would she ever consider such a thing. And she certainly never brought up her desire to be an officer.

But ever since she had met Jonathan, a feeling of immense warmth flowed through her at the very thought of him, she couldn't help but feel as if she _should_ tell Jeremy. That she had every right to be proud of herself and her dream, and if Jeremy didn't like it, well, he could pound sand!

The vehemence of the thought surprised her. It had been a long time since she hadn't felt the need to apologize for what she wanted for herself. As if her desire to be an officer was an inconvenience to those around her. 'I am sorry, but I want to be a police officer.' 'I'm sorry, I don't want to be a farmer.' 'I'm sorry…' It had been her constant refrain for _years._ I'm sorry. It said so much about who she had become. When she was younger, much younger, she hadn't been like this. But the constant objections to the way she saw herself had slowly chipped away at her hope.

But things were different now. She was digging herself out of the pit she found herself in. Egged on at every step by her new friend. The charming Jonathan Gibbon. The _supremely_ charming Jonathan…

Her ears blushed, her mind had been wandering into territory it had no right to be. She found him attractive, in a sort of exotic, forbidden sort of way. It would never happen, anything between them, but it was fun to think about.

It was wrong though, she reminded herself. She had a boyfriend after all, who was perfectly nice, perfectly charming, in a different, and perhaps less interesting way…

Judy let out an exasperated sigh, this really wasn't the time to be thinking about John. He may be charming, a fantastic fox. The way he spoke of her dreams may have once again given her hope, he may have been the first mammal in a long with which she didn't feel she had to be something other than who she was, but he _wasn't_ her boyfriend, _and_ he was a fox. So that meant she should forget about all these feelings that arose every time he so much as crossed her mind. Besides, it was totally silly that she had a crush on him just because he was nice to her. Was she a kitten again? Crushing on every strange male she met? No, she was an adult now, and she was about to have an adult conversation with her boyfriend before she went off to visit the city that afternoon to take the test.

She was struck by another wave of nervousness. Oh, gods, the test. She was not ready, she knew that. She had stopped studying for it months ago, despite constant promises to herself that she would. And once John arrived any thought of it had completely left her mind. The aptitude test for the ZPD Academy was notoriously difficult. Lots of trick questions, lots of judgement calls, lots of long, complicated scenarios designed to weed out those who just wouldn't cut it in the Academy. There were lots of study materials available for the exam, but they were expensive, and she didn't have much money. She had been forced to settle on older second hand materials. A good portion of it was still relevant, but much was not, and she had always known that her passing was as much of function of her hard studying as it was luck.

She had been inspired by John to take the test, and had signed up in a moment fiery confidence. But she wasn't ready, and now she had set herself up for failure. She hadn't even told John, so horrified at what she had done, and she didn't want him to see her fail. She didn't think she could handle the look of disappointment she was sure he would wear upon hearing the news.

But it would be ok, she would be fine. She would pass, and everything would work out.

And so she sat, waiting for her boyfriend to show up at this roadside diner. On the one paw wishing he was already there, and on the other dreading the moment he did.

The bell above the door jingled and she looked up at the sound. Ah! There he was, looking around for her. She waved to catch his attention, and stood as he arrived at her booth. They kissed, and he took the seat opposite her. She lingered for a moment before sitting down, struck by how little that kiss had made her feel. But the moment was fleeting, and she quickly joined Jeremy in the booth.

"So how's it going?" he asked, "You've been hard to get a hold of." He tilted his head to the side quizzically. A habit of his when he asked questions. "Made me think you might not want to see me anymore." He added playfully. Though perhaps only half so. Judy had caught the hint of dejection in his voice.

"No, no, of course not," she placated. "I mean, you know how it is, what with the family stand going, and planting season. Things have been really crazy lately."

"I'm just joshing ya Judes." Gods she hated when he called her that, they would have to work on that. "I know you're busy, you could call or text once in awhile though, let me know things are ok and all that."

She felt terrible, she _had_ basically ignored him for the better part of a month. Not on purpose, of course, but the sudden arrival of John had been _distracting_. "I know, I know, I just…" She let out an apologetic sigh. "I just kinda forget the world around me sometimes."

He smiled at her, his understanding and forgiveness clear. She couldn't help but smile back. That was one of the reasons she liked Jeremy. Anger seemed a foreign concept to him. He was always so cheerful, happy to see her, even when she wasn't the best of girlfriends. She did have a tendency to get fixated on things, forgetting about all but that which was right in front of her, and he had never batted an eye. But then neither had John-

She crushed the thought before it could go any further. It was neither fair to Jeremy nor the time to be thinking such things.

She returned to the present, hoping Jeremy hadn't noticed the momentary lapse in her attention. Luckily, he hadn't, distracted as he was with the menu.

Silence passed between them for a few moments. Jeremy perusing the menu and Judy trying desperately to find a way to bring up the very reason she had asked him there. Jeremy filled the silence then, asking her about her family, how the farm was, the stand, her life. They fell back into their ritual as a couple. It was really quite nice, idly passing the time chatting about nothing, simply enjoying each others company. Jeremy really was a nice rabbit, pretty darn close to the kind she had always imagined herself with.

"So, I know this might be rushing things a bit," Jeremy said over the top of his menu, his tone taking Judy off guard, "but I was hoping I could take you to meet my parents."

Judy froze. Meeting a boyfriend's parents was a big step, and certainly signaled his future intentions. There was a whole ritual involved in rabbit courtship around meeting parents. The male would introduce his potential mate first usually, and they would assess the suitability of the match, subtly giving their blessing to their son before the girlfriend left by being the last ones to suggest wrapping up the evening. Then, the female would have the opportunity return the gesture and introduce her boyfriend to her parents. That was when things became particularly complicated. At the introduction the female was expected to leave and fetch beverages, traditionally carrot juice. This served two purposes, it gave the parents a moment alone with their daughter's suitor, and it gave the female time to prepare the drinks. That was by far the most vital part of the whole ritual. For, if the female served her parents sweet carrot juice, that signaled her interest in the match, but if it were bitter, or perhaps simply unsweetened, that signaled to the parents that their daughter was not interested. And the disapproval of the parents gave their daughter an easy out to cool off the relationship.

All that said, things didn't usually quite work that way anymore. That sort of tradition was a relic of the time before dating was really a thing at all. But, Jeremy was a bit of a traditionalist at times. And this was apparently one of those times.

She didn't hate the idea, not really, though images of the fox back at her burrow began to invade her thoughts. Jeremy was a good rabbit, and perhaps if he could be made to understand the path she was setting herself on she wouldn't mind settling down with him, whatever that ended up looking like. Yes, that would be alright with her.

"I–, I understand if it's too soon though, we haven't been together that long–"

"No! No, it's fine," she blurted out. "You just surprised me. I think… I think I would like to meet your parents." She smiled at him, though she didn't really feel it, still much too nervous for what she had in store for him.

"You would?! Oh boy, that's great! They will love you, I promise!"

"We have to talk about something though." It was Jeremy's turn to be caught of guard, and he tilted his head as he was apt to do. Judy sighed, mustering the courage to say what she had to. "Jeremy, today I am getting on the train to Zootopia. I am going to take the entrance exam for the Police Academy." There was far more confidence in her voice than there was in her heart, "I want to be a police officer Jeremy. In Zootopia."

Jeremy stared at her, bewildered, totally at loss at what he had just heard. "You want to be a police officer?" he finally asked. "Can rabbits even do that?"

"Yes! Well… not until recently. I mean, technically there was nothing to say we couldn't, but it would have been impossible. The mayor recently changed the rules though, to open up jobs like that to more mammals. He called it the 'Mammal Inclusion Initiative'; I've done my research, I can get in."

"But Judy, how is that gonna work? You can't be an officer in Zootopia and take care of the farm."

"Jeremy, I really hate farming."

He stared at her blankly.

"I mean, maybe hate is too strong a word," and she looked at the ceiling hoping to find the right one there. "I just really don't like it. It's just not for me. I just think I can do so much more with my life."

Jeremy furrowed his brow at that. "There's nothing wrong with being a farmer Judy. It's what we are good at and there is nothing wrong with that."

"No, no..." She regretted her comment. She hadn't intended it to sound the way it had, even if that was how she honestly felt. "You're right, there isn't anything wrong with farming, I just don't want to do it. I wanna be a police officer… I have my whole life."

"Judy, there's never been a rabbit police officer, what if you fail?"

"Then I fail I guess." The admission made her heart beat nervously. She didn't want to think about what would happen if she didn't make it. "But Jeremy, if I never tried, well… I think that would be worse."

Jeremy gave her a pained looked, "Judy…" he pleaded, "you can't go. What about your family? What about us? Being a cop is dangerous Judy. What if you get hurt."

"I'll be fine Jeremy, and so will my family. You know how many we have now. My parents will be fine, and so will everyone else."

"And _us_?" He put extra emphasis on it this time.

She looked away, not sure how to answer.

"Judy?"

She could hear the sadness in his voice, and it struck at her core. She had the feeling, the terrible awful feeling that by the time she left here they would no longer be together. As if she had lost control of the tractor and was careening into a ditch, and there was nothing she could do. John briefly flashed through her head, the fox smiling kindly at her, and a small part of her felt that as long as he was around that breaking up with Jeremy would be ok, but a much larger part of her screamed out against the impending doom.

"Come with me Jeremy. We can move to the City together. There is lots there for both of us. It's wonderful."

Jeremy looked a little shocked, as if he had never even considered such a thing, and now he was he didn't like. "No, I– there's no way Judy, you know I don't like the City. And my family needs me here. Who else is gonna take care of the farm?"

"Jeremy!" she said, a little more forcefully than she had intended, "You have 57 siblings! They will be fine. Everything will be ok. You don't have to stay here if you don't want to, they don't need you. If you aren't there for the farm, your younger brothers and sisters will be."

"But Judy, that just don't work. What if we all just decided we wanted to leave, where would my parents be then? We can't just all abandon them!"

"Jeremy I am not asking you to-"

"Besides Judy, I don't _want_ to leave. I like it here Judy. I like farming, and living in the Burrows with my family…" He was silent for a moment, looking sadly down at the table. "And I like you too Judy. A lot. You're really great, and I don't want you to leave."

Judy felt the tears in her eyes, tried to blink them back, but couldn't stop them all. "Jeremy I…" she paused, trying to stop her voice from wavering. "I like you too, but I've wanted this my whole life… I have to do this Jeremy, I won't ever be happy otherwise."

Suddenly, her phone rang, the alarm cutting through the tension in the booth. "Oh gods..." she looked at Jeremy, alarmed, knowing that if she didn't leave now she would miss her train, but also knew that if she left now she would be tearing the roots out of this relationship. Their eyes met, and a line of John's poem flitted through her head:

" _Mend my life!"_

 _Each voice cried_

 _But you didn't didn't stop._

 _You knew what you had to do_

There was only one life on this earth that should could save, and that was her own. And if she wanted to do that, she had to catch that train.

"Jeremy, I'm sorry, I am leaving. I have a train to catch," she said finally, in a controlled tone. Knowing what this meant for them.

"Judy no please, don't go. Please. You can't."

Judy stood up from the booth, walked to his side, leant over and kissed him. Probably for the last time.

"Goodbye Jeremy. I'll call you when I get back"

She would miss him, she knew that. She had liked him too much not to miss him. But, even so, as she left him there in that diner she didn't look back.

* * *

Nick didn't see Judy that day, nor the next. He was worried at first, concerned that something had happened to her, but that passed eventually. The mood of the burrow around him hadn't changed, his food still arrived on time, and Stu even stopped by to apologize for the way he had treated him when he'd first arrived. Nick asked after Judy, but Stu wasn't sure what she was up to. With so many children it could be hard to keep track of them all, he said. He was sure she would stop by though. She had taken a real shine to him after all. Stu still seemed a bit uncomfortable about that particular reality. Nick supposed it would be unfair to expect him to accept that in its entirety immediately.

Stu had asked him though, about what he thought about Judy becoming an officer. About whether he thought she could do it.

"It doesn't really matter if she can or not does it?" he had said. "If she doesn't at least try she will never be happy."

Stu had left soon after, his face clouded in thought.

Nick held out hope that she would visit on the third day, but as it passed by without a sign of his favorite rabbit he sunk into a blue melancholy, resigned to this new and unappetizing normal. Martha visited him though, which improved his mood, if only just. But she wasn't sure where Judy was either, and the news only further sapped his spirit.

He did a lot sleeping over the next few days, getting out of bed only for the necessities, and he hardly ate.

This time was, truly, the lowest he had been in recent memory. There had been other times in the past when he had suffered similarly, and far worse, but it had never been over something like this. The boredom was crushing. Time seemed to creep by endlessly. Judy was fun, in her own way. Perhaps a bit odd, she did want to be a cop after all, but that just added to her charm. He missed her, he realized, and far more than he would ever have expected. But that was alright, nothing was wrong about that. She kept him from going stir crazy, and necessity made strange bedfellows.

He understood that on an intellectual level, at least to a point. His only purpose at the moment was to get better. An important goal, but one which he had no real control over. Really the only thing he could _do,_ was make things worse. So he had no choice but to sit around and wait, a state of affairs he was not used to, and certainly didn't like. He had often been forced to do unpleasant things during his time as a spy, and to get through those times it was important to do _something_ to break up the suck. Judy was that diversion. But that was all, for better or for worse.

But did he have to sit around? Less than a week ago he had been out and about, exploring his immediate surroundings, it had been painful, exhausting, and probably set back his recovery, but he had done it. Really, he didn't need to be there anymore. At first it had probably been necessary, when things had been a bit nip and tuck. The quiet life in Bunnyburrow allowed him a chance to step back and regain his wits in an environment without the dangers present back in the City. But he was healthy enough to get around, and had been for some time. There was no longer any extreme risk of him re-injuring himself, and he really wasn't welcome in the burrow. Judy liked him, and Stu now tolerated him, but the wider community didn't and regardless of the opinions of his few allies here he was aware of the ramifications of his presence of the burrow. He wasn't welcome, and while he had never made a habit of not being in places he wasn't welcome, in these circumstances it didn't seem beneficial to either party. He was basically trapped in this little room, not quite a prisoner, but not quite a free fox either, and the restrictions were beginning to wear on him. Especially because they were totally arbitrary.

Yes, it was time to go. He wasn't 100% yet, but he had overstayed at the the Hopps home and he was wasting his time. The world hadn't stopped despite the impression of stillness that pervaded the Burrow. Things were moving on without him, and he couldn't accept that any longer. What he did was just too important.

He scrapped the coded letter he had never sent, not willing to entrust it with anyone other than Judy, and created another. "Come get me" was the essence. He wouldn't wait for Judy this time. He would regret not seeing her again, if that was how this all worked out, but such is life. That was how it always was, and so it would continue.

He fell asleep with that unhappy thought swirling through his head.

* * *

Something pressed at his sleeping mind. Something both familiar and yet foreign. He felt he recognized it, but it was too indistinct for him to place. Warm, comfortable, that was how it made him feel, the sensation pleasant even if it was unusual. Just barely, his mind rose above the fog of sleep, prepared to dive back down again if this all proved to be nothing but a strange dream.

The presence took shape slowly, a rabbit. A rabbit? _Judy._ Judy was there… somewhere nearby.

He was awake in an instant, scanning the room for any noise out of the ordinary. He opened his eyes to the darkness of his room, moonlight filtering in through the small circular window just barely enough to give the space an eerie bluish white glow. Then he saw her, head down in her arms on his bed. Asleep? No, her breath was too ragged, as if she had been crying. He hated it when she cried. He reached out to her, slowly, almost nervous that she would realize he was awake and then leave him, and placed his paw gently upon her head.

She flinched, just barely, and Nick said softly, consolingly, "Hey, Judy."

She didn't respond at first, did her best to regain her composure, and finally, "John."

In that moment Nick hated himself, not for the feelings he felt, but for lying to her about his name. Nicholas, that was his name, and he longed to hear it on her lips. It took all his fortitude not to come clean then, tell her the truth, about everything. About who he was, where he had been and where he was going. She at least deserved that, for all she had done for him. If there was anyone on this planet that deserved a tiny window into what exactly made him who he was it was her. But, he reminded himself painfully, the requirements of his service said otherwise, nay, _demanded_ otherwise. He was a ghost, a different mammal on a different day, unattached and unimpeded. He could not survive otherwise.

He made to reply, but the words caught in his throat. He, for the first time in a long time, had no idea what to say. Nothing could quite articulate the feelings he wished to convey.

"I missed you," she finally said.

"Yeah," his voice trembled almost unnoticeably, "I missed you too."

She pressed her head into his paw and he realized he had been gently scratching behind her ears. To a fox, it was a deeply intimate gesture, reserved only for one's very closest relationships. The ability to hear was incredibly important to a fox, almost as important as the sense of smell. A lover, a child, a parent, perhaps the very best of friends, no one else was afforded such privilege, and even then... Liliya had always kindly batted away his paw when he had tried it. For half a heartbeat he thought he might have crossed a line, but her contented sigh told him otherwise, and it was clear that the touch, while apparently pleasant, held no particular meaning for rabbits. But then, he wasn't sure what he meant by it either. They were none of the things normally required for such a gesture to pass between them, so what did that make them? And what did it say that he had scratched behind her ears so unthinkingly?

He didn't know how to answer these questions, was afraid of what the answers might bring. He was happy though, immeasurably so, now that she was there beside him.

"I'm sorry I was away for so long." He heard the tears in her voice even though it was muffled by her arms, and he felt her shudder.

He ignored her apology, none was necessary. He had a greater concern. "Why are you crying?"

His paw fell away from her head as she raised it to look at him, but she refused eye contact, staring down at the bed instead..

"I–" she stifled another sob. "I'm a failure. I–" a hiccup, "they were right, everyone was right..."

"What are you talking about?" Nick asked, confused.

"I failed the aptitude test." She paused, awaiting his response, but noticed the confused look on his face and continued, "I took the aptitude test for the Police Academy. I... I failed." She was unsuccessful in stifling another sob, and the sound was loud in the tiny room.

"Oh, Judy, I am so sorry." He took her paw. "You can take it again though right?"

"No, no I can't. Its expensive. It's a two day test, and I have to go to the City to take it. It's so expensive there. I can't afford another trip, not for a long time." She began to sob harder, "It'll be months and m-months, maybe even a year, before I could afford to go again."

Ahhh, money. It had been a long time since he had had to worry about money. He was well paid as it was, but when he traveled all his expenses were covered by the Agency. It had been a singular obsession of his however in his younger days. Days he didn't miss at all. He had separated more than a few fools from their money back then, and while he wasn't really ashamed of that part of his past, he was glad he never had to go back.

He knew then and there that he would bankroll her next attempt at the exam, and the next, if it came to that, and the next one too. Even if he didn't have all these strange thoughts swirling through his mind, it was the least he could do. He owed her his life, and if helping her begin her new one would in some small way begin to repay that debt, than that is what he would do. He would never tell her though. She could never know.

"You're not a failure Judy," and he hooked her under the arms and pulled her into a comforting embrace. "You'll get through it, I know you will." She hadn't stopped him from pulling her onto the bed, and now she latched onto him tightly, crying softly into his shoulder. "And don't worry about the money, it's nothing. Just study hard and pass next time ok?"

"But how can I pay for–"

He cut her off, "Just trust me, things like that have a way of working themselves out."

She was silent for a moment, seemingly trying to decipher his meaning, but he didn't let her finish connecting the dots.

"So, how was the City?" he asked, reaching for anything that might distract her from her grief.

Obviously the stress of the exam had marred the overall experience, but she had loved the City. All the different mammals, predator and prey living together so closely. All the things to see, all the things to do. It was wonderful. She apologized then for not telling him she would be gone. It had all happened so fast. She had put in an application three weeks before, but had told no one. She was so afraid of going that if her fear got the better of her she didn't want anyone to know. But she had done it, and hadn't studied in quite some time. The lack of support from her family discouraging her from working as hard as she could have, _should_ have.

Like with her other apologies Nick told her she had nothing to be sorry for, though he whispered playful admonishments into her ear. "You silly bunny, you should have told me," and "Well, I support you, so now you have to study extra hard." He found himself scratching behind her ears again, but this time he didn't question himself and instead savored the feeling of her soft fur beneath his paw pads.

A pleasant, comfortable silence passed between them, each simply enjoying the others company. Then she asked him a question, "John..." she paused, and Nick could feel her press her head into his side just a little harder. "When I finally get to to Zootopia, can we see each other again?"

It was a strange question, almost naive, and he could hear the embarrassment behind it. They would never see each other again of course, but that didn't really matter. To her, he was an officer, and they would see each other again when she got there too, and he would do nothing to dissuade her of that.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Of course we can," he said finally.

She hugged him tighter in response. "Thank you John, you're really great."

"I know," he replied, unable to help himself.

"Shut up, dumb fox," she said, giggling harder now, the sound infectious. Nick found himself laughing right along with her. Soon their laughter receded and only the warm glow of happiness remained. Yes, he was happy in that moment, though it was tempered by the knowledge that the sort of personal connection he was at the brink of making with Judy would do nothing but hurt her, and perhaps even him. He wanted to forget that, but he couldn't. The necessities of his career loomed large in the back of his mind, and he reminded himself that everything he had said and done in his time at that Hopps burrow was simply for the sake of the service, and nothing more. Nothing else mattered, and if the requirements of that service had forced him to deal with these rabbits in a much less amicable fashion… Well… So it goes.

The way things had turned out was infinitely preferable to something like that however. And he reflected on how despite all those sorts of considerations he still had no wish for the moment to end. But it must at some point, and that point was rapidly approaching. He needed her to leave. Didn't wish to put her into any sort of compromising position which they would both later come to regret. He had let her get much too close during his time here, and if sacrificing the moment would make even just a small gesture to correct that mistake then so be it.

"Ok Judy, it's time for us both to get some sleep."

She looked up at him and said almost regretfully, "Yeah, I know."

"Hey don't say it like that, I will be here in the morning." He admonished playfully, as he gently extricated himself from her embrace.

She finally acquiesced to his motions and reluctantly slipped from the bed. She turned to leave but stopped and said, "Goodnight John, see you in the morning."

"I'll be here." He smiled back at her.

And then she was gone.

* * *

 **Thats it for now, I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **The next one will be out in two weeks!**

 **Live well my friends!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello everyone!**

 **I present to you chapter 9 of Saving Wilde!**

 **I don't own any Disney characters**

* * *

Things had changed between Judy and John, although the rabbit couldn't quite put her finger on it. She still spent almost her every free moment with him, and they still seemed to understand each other perfectly. If anything, their trust should have grown, as they learned more about each other every day. But she had noticed something new too. Something unfamiliar and unpleasant. A certain, peculiar, and almost inarticulable distance had begun to grow between them. She felts its presence even if she could not understand why it was there.

She wracked her brain, trying to pin down just when she had begun to notice it, or perhaps even what had caused it. Could it have been something she had said? No, though perhaps sharing with him her boyfriend troubles may have been a mistake. He hadn't seemed prepared for that conversation, and it was as if they were back where they had began, more than a month ago. John subtly trying to turn the conversation away from anything personal. But then he seemed to do that for everything now. There had been a time, not too long ago, in which nothing was off limits, every topic was on the table. But that wasn't so now. John was receding back upon himself before her eyes, and she couldn't understand why. All the worse was that he made it all seem so natural for him, like the friendly openness she had tasted was actually an anomaly, and he was simply returning things back to normal.

It must have been something she had done then, nothing else made sense. Her mind returned to the night she had arrived back from the City, defeated and broken, as it had so many times since.

She had called Jeremy on the way home as she said she would. Despite the way they had parted, she felt he deserved that at least. It had been a mistake, not because of anything Jeremy had said, but the admission of failure had been terribly embarrassing. He didn't really believe she could do it, and she had proven him right. It had been a painful conversion, and it left her feeling even worse about herself than when she had found out she had failed the test. But it had also left her with one other thing: a tremendous desire to see the one mammal she knew who had seemed to understand her vision, John Gibbon. It was strange to her, that the only one on the planet who seemed to _get_ her, was a fox she had found washed up on her riverbank. But perhaps Frith above had listened to her pleas for help, and sent one of his messengers to guide her back to the path she had always known was hers.

She rolled over in her bed and chuckled at the thought. That John Gibbon could be a messenger from above. So silly, better fit for a naive kitten rather than an adult rabbit like herself. But while he may not have been sent from God, John was certainly a godsend.

He had caught her, as she tumbled downwards in despair, just as she had wanted to him to, _knew_ he would. That strange fox who temporarily lived naught but a short jaunt from her room. And she held onto him desperately, felt his fur against her face, was surrounded by his warmth, let his scent fill her, listened to his heart beat inside his chest, slow, strong, and steady. He had lifted her up, again, from the pit she found herself in. Talked her back from the precipice. So easily too. He had simply told her that she could do it, and to try again. Well, he had said more than that, much more, but that had been the essence. It had been a beautiful moment, wrapped there in his arms, whispering into each others ears, truly getting a feel for one another. She had felt a connection that night, as if where she was had been exactly the place she was supposed to be.

And then it was over, John gently shooing her from his room.

That was it, the point where everything began to go south, it had to be. She would have stayed, for at least a little longer, basking in his warmth, catching up on all the things she had missed in the days she had been gone in the City. But he had cut it short. And things just weren't the same afterwards.

If she were honest with herself, and she had made it a point lately to do so, things _had_ changed. And it was more than just John's inexplicable aloofness. There _was_ an unfamiliar awkwardness now. The easy familiarity and friendly affection that had so characterized their relationship up until then hadn't disappeared, but it was slipping away, moment by moment.. And now, her visits to him were becoming almost painful.

It terrified her that her failure to get into the academy might have actually caused him to think less of her. And now he was dismissing her in much the same way so many had before him. No, no, that couldn't be it, despite all the change between them, he had been clear on that. Don't. Give. Up. If anything, he had been all the more adamant in the last few days. It seemed to be the last common ground they had at all, and he was not afraid to tread upon it.

Something far worse crossed her mind then: What if… what if he had felt the same sort of connection she had, but had rejected it? As if it had been wrong somehow. As if the last mammal on earth which he would wish to share something like that with was her.

"Stop it Judy," she said aloud. She knew that that wasn't what was going on, and even if it was, it didn't matter. She could admit it, she had a tiny, itsy bitsy crush on him. Despite his being a fox he really was oh so very dashing. But she was letting that cloud her judgement. Things between them were not good, and she didn't know what to do about it. And worrying about a silly crush wasn't helping. It was just all so frustrating, he was her friend, _still_ her friend. He was somehow the one mammal she had met who seemed to understand her. And she didn't want to lose that. The very prospect terrifying. He was a fantastic mammal, a fantastic fox. But she found herself at a loss for why she no longer could quite seem to understand him. Before this unpleasant turn she had felt herself at the cusp of putting his parts together. Understanding, at least on some level, what made him go. But now she felt farther away than ever, the line slipping further from her paws with each new interaction.

But she couldn't, wouldn't let it go so easily. She had done that before, did it even now, but this, _this_ , she would not let go. So she groped, trying to rekindle what they had had before. She would force conversion even when uncomfortable silence was seemingly all that could pass between them, stayed in his room far longer than she was welcome, though before there had never been a time when she wasn't. John wasn't cruel about it, far from it. He maintained his playful demeanor. But his tone, almost indiscernibly, was edged with with something she couldn't quite place.

It had been three days of this. Three days of awkward silences, listless conversations, and uncomfortable looks. It was starting affect her. Her mother had been prodding her about her sour mood, and her boyfriend… She wished she had not told Jeremy. They could have been together a while longer if she had said nothing. Maybe if she had picked a better time to tell him she might have convinced him. But she had rushed into it, hopeful that he would understand as John had. He hadn't, though he tried, and now she had all but broken up with one of the best bunnies she had ever met.

She let out a frustrated sigh and glanced at her clock. 1:47 AM. She groaned inwardly, now she was losing sleep over this. Darn that fox. The way he was acting made her so angry. It was so juvenile. If he had a problem, the least he could do was tell her what it was, and they could get past it. It was the least he could do, _she_ had certainly poured her heart out to him on more than one occasion. And if couldn't return the favor… well, he was being a jerk, that was for sure, and tomorrow morning he would know it.

The thought made her feel better somewhat. Now she had something to look forward to, a goal in mind. It wouldn't be fun, but it couldn't be any worse than the limbo she found herself in now.

She heard something then, faint, muffled, almost drowned out by her own internal monologue, which was immediately derailed. It was like the air pressure in her room had changed ever so slightly. But she felt it and she heard it.

She was suddenly overcome with the feeling that something important was happening, the world moving rapidly around her, and something, somewhere, was screaming at her to investigate. Her mind immediately returned to Jonathan.

He was up!

The thought rang out in her mind like a gunshot. His room wasn't so far, and it was possible that she might be able to hear the door… if someone slammed it. No the thought was silly, he wasn't going anywhere. Not yet. He still had 3 weeks till he was off bedrest, he wouldn't be wandering about at this hour. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check.

She went to her door, cracked it open, and listened.

There was nothing, she heard nothing. No sounds at all coming from the rest of the burrow, things were as they should be. She felt a little silly then, for being so paranoid but what–

 _Ah– fuck…_

She heard the curse, just barely. The sound wafting down the hall on a breeze. But it had been there, she was certain of that. There was only one mammal in this burrow that would curse like that, though she had to admit he had gotten better about it. John. She didn't know what he was up to, but there was no way she was going to let him sneak around the burrow like this. She had to investigate and stop him. She slipped from her room, and followed her quarry down the hall.

John's room was empty, as she suspected it would be, though she had had to check. The state of it shocked her however. It was like he had never been there at all. The beds had been returned to their places along the far wall, each made up just so. The desk clean and tidy, clear of all her books and all the strange writings. There was an air of finality to the place, every sign of him scrubbed from existence. It left her with a pit in her stomach, and her mind struggled to understand what it all meant.

He couldn't be leaving, he still had three weeks, that was a lot of time. It didn't make any sense. And why wouldn't he have said anything? Their friendship may have been going through a bit of a rough patch, but that was no reason just to up and leave. Things could still be mended, it didn't have to end this way! She was becoming frantic as she charged down the hall after him desperate to stop him. How could he do this? So what if she had failed the test?! So what if she had a crush on him?! That was no reason to up and leave. There was still time to fix things!

She tore through the burrow then, any desire to be discrete forgotten. But she didn't find him, and since that faint curse in the hallway she hadn't heard a single sound that might give away his whereabouts. She cursed herself for ruining what she had had with him. If she hadn't been so weak, such a dumb, _emotional_ bunny, none of this would have happened. John would still be there in his room where he belonged, and she would still have her friend. The only friend she had that seemed to wish for her dreams to be realized. It was all her fault, and as she approached the entrance hall, tears began to stream down her face. She wouldn't let it end like this. If she could just talk to him, everything would be fine, everything would be-

She had hesitated at the front door, paw on the handle, terrified at the prospect that he may not actually be out there, that he was gone for good, or perhaps even worse. But she had to know, just had to. If she didn't open the door in front of her and find out she would always regret it. She overcame her apprehension, grasped the handle firmly, and stepped into the night beyond.

There was hardly any moonlight, and what little light filtered through the overcast did little more than illuminate dim undefinable shapes in the distance. It took her a moment for her eyes to really adjust to the gloom, though perhaps adjust wasn't the right word, her eyes had never been very good in the dark. She stepped away from the door, away from the front of the burrow, hoping beyond hope to catch a glimpse of something, hear _anything_. He had to be out there in the dark, going somewhere far away…

And then she heard it, a crunching scrape, somewhere down the driveway. She brought her ears to bear on the source and… there it was again! Yes, she had definitely heard someone walking, or judging by the irregular pace, _limping._ It was John! It had to be. She started down the driveway, not too fast, the possibility of it not actually being him had snuck into her mind, and it would be no good to barge into a stranger in the darkness. The sound grew louder, closer now, and she thought she could just make him out in the darkness. And then she could, and it was definitely him, he was leaning on one of his crutches as he walked, his normally vibrant red fur ruddy in the gloom.

It was him, it was really him. She could hardly contain her excitement. Never before in her life had she been so happy to see someone, and yet when she tried to call to him her voice failed her. Her words catching in her throat. She was so happy to see him, so immeasurably happy, and yet, it was bittersweet, the knowledge that he was making his escape poisoning the moment. She didn't understand it, felt responsible for it, didn't know how to make it right, and for moment thought that perhaps it was best to just let him go. _NO!_ A voice shouted in her mind, he wasn't going to leave without talking to her first.

"John…?" she said, almost afraid to interrupt the stillness. "John…?" louder now, with more feeling. "John?!" She hadn't shouted, not quite, but it had much the same effect. He stopped, but didn't turn around, his ears the only part of him showing any sign of life, aimed back towards her as best they could. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew she was there, had known, ever since she opened the door. And it made her angry. Angry that he would choose to ignore her like that. Didn't their friendship mean more than that? He began to move again, took another step forward, and now Judy shouted, "Jonathan!" He stopped again, flinching at the sound, and this time he turned around.

"Ok, ok..." It was all he said.

She approached him, not sure what to say next, on each step she alternated between being angry with him, and happy that he was still there. She wanted to shout and scream and yell. Tell him what a jerk he had been for the last three days, and what a jerk he was being now, and as she did those things she wanted to hug him and never let go. But when she came to stand in front of him and looked into his eyes, saw the pained expression he wore, all of that fell away, and all she could ask was, "Why?"

John looked away momentarily, embarrassment crossing his visage, and then her met her gaze again and said, "It's… time for me to go." He said it without much conviction, his eyes falling away from hers as the words left his mouth.

"No, no, you still have three weeks…"

"No I don't, I have to go back."

His responses just didn't sound right. They were mechanical, unfeeling, like he had rehearsed them beforehand. And each time he spoke she inched closer, trying to catch his eye.

She couldn't bear it, this awkward interrogation. It was going nowhere, and served no purpose other than to be painful. And so, she laid herself bare.

"What did I do John, why are you leaving?" her voice wavered, and she felt tears at the edges of her eyes, she was almost touching him now. "You have to tell me John. I can fix it. You don't have to go..."

"You did nothing," he said softly, gazing down into her eyes. "It not your fault, please don't think that because it isn't true." He almost chuckled, the hitch in his voice lightening his words. And then she was in his arms, pressed against him, and she pressed back. She felt as she had three nights ago as she lay in his arms. For a brief moment there was nothing else but him, totally engulfing her every sense, and she was happy. But she still had to know.

"Then why?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, and John sighed. "It's not your fault. Just know that ok?"

"No, I want you to stay, but if you aren't going to, the least you could do is tell me why, John!"

"I–" he paused, as if trying to find the right words.

"John?" she prodded.

He grimaced, looked her square in the eye and said, "Stop calling me that."

Judy suddenly had the feeling she had lost the plot, and she blinked up at him, uncomprehending.

"It's not my name," he continued regretfully, his expression one of deep sadness.

"What do you mean it's not your name?" Dread, that was all she felt now as she looked at him. Jonathan wasn't his name? She could only imagine a few reasons why he would have lied about something like that, and each was worse than the last. She looked at him, as if seeing him truly for the first time. If he had lied about that then what else had he lied about?

 _Everything_. A voice in her head answered. He had lied about everything. The gun, oh gods! She pushed herself from his embrace. He was dangerous, a predator, and she had let him into her house. Had _defended_ him from her family. He had used her, and now he was leaving to go back to the life of crime he no doubt led.

She backed away fearfully, stealing glances back at the front of the burrow. Could she call out? Run? She had to get away from him.

"Wait! Judy, please, hear me out."

She stopped, despite herself, and looked at him, not sure what to expect.

"I told you a false name… I thought it would protect you, all of you," and he gestured towards the burrow, "in case anyone ever came looking for me…" he let out a regretful chuckle, "I don't swim in the nicest lakes you know?" He searched her face and then continued, "Being undercover, I don't deal with nice mammals, and if the mob knew I was alive and living _here_... I didn't want to bring any more danger down upon you than I already was simply by staying here. It was stupid though. I told you I was a cop, not knowing my name wouldn't have protected you from anything… I didn't really think it through... I just can't stand it, hearing you call me that anymore." The explanation made sense, quite a lot of it actually, he was an undercover cop investigating gangsters, and if they somehow found he might be at the burrow… the thought was too frightening to explore further. The fear drained from her but her trust in him had been shaken, even if he lied to her with the best of intentions that still left so much up in the air, and she found herself wondering how someone could live with themselves after lying like he had. And he was right, it the lie wouldn't have protected anything. She didn't like this new revelation about him. It lowered him greatly in her eyes. It wasn't a betrayal, but it felt like it, and what did he mean he couldn't stand her saying it? She took another step back from him, unconsciously hoping the distance might help her better process all of this. It hurt so badly, the lie. Whatever his intentions, that was what it had been.

She looked at him painfully and said, "H-how?"

He grit his teeth at her gaze, and almost seemed to wither before her, but he continued all the same. "I'm sorry," he shook his head sadly, "I'm so sorry. I thought it was for the best."

"Wh- what's your name then?" She asked hesitantly.

He gave her a half smile, though there was no feeling behind it. "It's Nick... Nicholas Wilde."

Nicholas… it fit him, she had to admit. He lived a wild life, that was for sure. The thought made her feel bad for him, genuinely so. He made so much more sense now. The evasiveness, the reluctance to share his past or anything else personal. She wondered how he could live like that, how anyone could live like that. Not trusting anyone, building an entire life around a lie. She had read books about undercover police, and had read again and again about the toll it took upon the officers' lives. Living in constant fear of being discovered, sacrificing personal connections for the job, sometimes even having to participate in the worst depravities of the criminals they were investigating all for the sake of maintaining a cover. It could be a terrible life, one filled with heartache and sorrow.

But none of that softened the blow of these new revelations about him. And she stopped herself from asking him anymore questions. She resigned herself then to the reality that was laid in front of her. He was leaving, and it was probably for the best. That way she wouldn't discover the other places he might have lied. She wasn't angry with him, just exhausted, with him and with all the rest of it. And in that state of exhaustion she said something which she would immediately regret.

"You should go."

The surprise was evident on his face, and she, horrified at what she had just said, tried to cover it up, explain it away, but he stopped her. Told her he understood and that he would leave, get out of her fur. But she told him, vehemently, the he must stay and that she wanted him as deep in her fur as he could go. He laughed at that, and said, "Do all rabbits' minds go to that sort of place so quickly, or is it just you?"

The comment stopped her dead in her tracks, the insides of her ears turning a bright red. The mood lightened palpably.

"That's not what I-"

"You know," Nick interrupted her with a playful glint in his eye. "You're such a good sport. Its one of the reasons I like you so much. It takes a special kind of mammal to put up with me."

"You're not as bad as you think you are, despite your best efforts," she replied, doing her best not to read too deeply into his comment.

He chuckled and then, his tone suddenly somber again, "I am sorry for lying to you, it was a mistake…"

"I'm mad at you for it."

"I understand."

"And you have been a major jerk for the last three days!"

"You're absolutely right. I've been terrible."

"And you didn't lie about anything else?"

"Cross my heart."

She paused, considering, and then said, "I'm still mad."

"And I still understand."

There was a long pause then, neither sure where to go next. And then Judy finally broke the silence.

"Do you really have to go Nick?"

He sighed, "Yes. It's time for me to go back."

She hugged him again. "Will you… come to my graduation? When I pass the academy?"

He looked down at her, the affection evident on his face, "I wouldn't miss it."

"You had better not."

He hugged her tighter and then held her out in front of him, and there was moment, when she looked up into his eyes, that she thought, hoped even, that he would kiss her... But it passed as quickly as it came, and she was left with nothing but a rapidly beating heart.

He hugged her a final time, lingering just long enough for her to notice his own heart pounding in his chest, and said, "I am glad I met you Judy."

"Yeah, I am pretty great aren't I?"

"Ho ho," his laugh was full and hearty, and she revelled in it, "you have been spending too much time with me I think!"

There were tears then, not many, but they fell all the same. Because she knew she hadn't spent nearly enough.

* * *

It was a long walk.

After they had parted, he told himself he wouldn't look back. Wouldn't make it any more painful than it already was. But he couldn't help himself, he had barely gone a dozen meters when he had done just that.

She had gotten to him, somehow. Slipped right between the joints of his armor, and made him violate one of the most important of the set of rules he lived by: stay detached... be forgettable.

Developing that skill had served him so well over the years. He was able to drift in an out of a place and simply blend in. No one ever knew him, and he certainly wasn't notable. Just another fox in a world full of them. The invisible mammal.

But not here, at this burrow. He had made a connection with one of the rabbits. And it wasn't just one between friendly acquaintances, it ran far deeper than he could ever hope to articulate. And if he were honest with himself, he didn't want to, terrified at what it might bring up in him.

And good lords, they had almost kissed!

 _And she was a rabbit_! The thought was galling to him even now. Of all the creatures on the earth, it had to be a rabbit. But then perhaps that was a blessing in disguise, she would be easy to forget, he reasoned, not believing it for a moment. But then he had to rationalize it somehow. The ease at which she had slipped under his guard and was now stuck there was alarming.

But then… he didn't regret a moment of it. And he knew that despite the sheer oddity of it all, he would always look back upon this month or so as one of the most singularly happy times of his life. When all he had to worry about was whether or not Bonny would forget to bring him lunch, and he could look forward to the delightful company of a one, Judith Hopps. It had been a temporary reprieve from his difficult life, as if he had been passing through the eye of a hurricane. And as he stepped into the nondescript van parked at the end of the driveway, he got the distinct feeling that he was diving head first right back into it.

He said nothing at first to the diminutive driver, who, judging by the smell, had apparently spent his time waiting chain smoking.

"You look like shit."

"Hah," Nick leaned back in his seat, paws clasped behind his head, "I've been getting that a lot lately."

"Maybe if you weren't such a cocky fuckhead you wouldn't go sticking your head where it don't belong. Like in the middle of a bomb. Then you wouldn't look like you do."

Nick shot Finnick a toothy grin, "It's good to see you too buddy."

Finnick grunted. "I'm just glad you aren't dead. I don't think the ZIA would keep paying me if you died."

"It's ok to admit you missed me Finnick."

"Fuck off, Nick."

Nick stifled a laugh. Finnick had always been like this, ever since he met him. But, he did care, or he wouldn't be out here in the middle of nowhere at 1am.

"So the bunnies treat you well?"

"As well as can be expected I guess."

"That one who caught you outside really seemed to like you," Finnick said with a sneer.

Oh shit, Finnick had seen them.

"That wasn't anything." Fuck, it wasn't anything, not really, nor would it ever be.

The truth in that statement wouldn't save him him now.

"Hey, hey, I am not one to judge where you stick your dick."

"Woah, that is _not_ what happened."

"I am sure it's not," he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I just never saw you as one to go after prey, especially a rabbit!"

"I did not fuck a bunny!"

"Careful there Nick, I think they prefer to be called rabbits. Might want to remember that the next time you get one in your bed!"

"Oh my gods Finnick, _shut the fuck up_ …"

His baritone cackle filled the van. "You should probably keep your hands to yourself next time. That's how rumors start."

Nick didn't respond, knowing that doing so he would simply prolong his embarrassment. And indeed, he was embarrassed. Why must it be a rabbit of all things that moved him so? That filled his mind in moments of idleness?

He _wanted_ her, every bit. Though the very admission made his throat tighten, and sent blood rushing to his ears. He wanted her badly, to feel her all over himself, know her, inside and out. He found himself imagining the what the rest of his life was like if she were in it: good, happy, an excellent life. The fantasy only further soured his mood.

He wanted what he could never have, knew it would be wrong on so many levels. Not the least of those being that he was a fox and she a bunny. But knowing that only made his desire stronger. The taboo making it all just that much more exciting.

But then perhaps that was the source of all of this. That taboo. Why else would he be so infatuated with that rabbit? It made sense in a way. He was not normally one to be so taken by anyone, and while she did have a certain _allure_ … an undeniable allure… she was just a bunny.

Yes, it was a very nice fantasy, but that's all it would ever be, and he would be happier if he just forgot it all.

Everything he had done. All of it, every comment, every motion, had all been for a single purpose, he reminded himself. It wasn't about her, or even him really, it was all for the sake of his mission. He was the will of the Zootopian government made manifest. He was a tool with which Zootopia could destroy its enemies and assure its friends. A lens through which the government could come to understand the world and act upon it. His being nice, or if he had chosen another route, was not personal. It was simply a result of his assessment of what was most effective at keeping himself safe so that he could continue his work. That was all...

He chuckled at himself inwardly. It sounded silly when said like that. Too grandiose, made him sound too self important. Even more so because it wasn't really true. He wasn't a machine, despite how hard he tried to act like one at times. And the ZIA usually didn't ask him to be one. All they asked was that he be effective, and there was no denying that he was. So he had let her get to him. _Just a little._ Pretending otherwise wouldn't solve the problem, only prolong the suffering. His choice to be nice and kind when he first awoke _had_ been the result of that assessment. That being friendly would get him exactly what he wanted. And it had worked perfectly. Perhaps too perfectly... His responding to her calls into the night, moments before, had not been the result of anything of the sort however. Hearing her like that… he knew then he couldn't leave without saying anything, despite it being what he should have done. Knew he had to see her one more time and explain to her why he was leaving. It may not have been right for his job. But it was right for _him._

"Ignaci wants to see you," Finnick finally broke the silence.

"Oh? What does he want?"

"To tell you you're an idiot… and probably that they want your back in Artica."

"Why? I thought I was done there. What's going on?" He hid his excitement. That would get him far away from Zootopia, let him clear his head.

Finnick sighed. "You think they tell me anything?"

Nick grinned at him. "No, but that never seems to stop you from knowing."

Now it was Finnick's turn to grin. "Phil cocked things up out there I heard. They want you to put all the pieces back together. And I think the MSS believes you are dead."

Nick grinned inwardly. _Just as planned._

"That doesn't sound too bad… you want to come this time?"

"Me, in that frigid hellhole? No way."

"Ah but Finnick, the vixens! They'd love you! And what better way to keep warm eh?"

Finnick didn't respond, didn't make any sort of motion in response. He sat there motionless beyond what was required to drive. Slowly though, a sly grin spread across his muzzle, and he finally said, "I bet they've never seen a Fennec before neither, ha ha!"

"Hah! Probably not buddy. I'm tellin' ya, they'd be all over you! Plus there is no one better than you at sussing out those, uh, _willing_ to provide us with useful information. And _now_ I can keep you on the payroll. There, see? I have beaten two birds with one bush!"

Finnick gave him a look. "You're an idiot Nick."

"What?" Nick replied, genuinely confused.

Finnick didn't answer, he simply rolled his eyes and returned his attention to driving.

* * *

 **And so that concludes the first arc of Saving Wilde. I hope you have enjoyed it so far!**

 **Reflecting back on these chapters, I think I would do my best to give you a wider perspective on the Burrow. Make it seem more alive with motion and activity. I think I became a little bit too fixated on our heroes and neglected other characters which could have contributed to the story. Oh well, live and learn. There are other things too of course, but from the perspective of the plot that is the most glaring.**

 **Thank you to all that have reviewed it so far, I really appreciate you taking the time to comment. It means a lot.**

 **Also, I may have gotten a little carried away with the innuendo. I apologize for nothing!**

 **Next chapter will be out in two weeks!**

 **Live well my friends!**

 **-EasyOdds2**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello everyone!**

 **I present to you chapter 10 of Saving Wilde! The first of the "new arc."**

 **I want to warn everyone beforehand that in the chapters that will follow there will be depictions of graphic violence. It wont be gratuitous however, at least not in my opinion.**

 **All reviews, questions, and comments are most welcome, and thank you to all those that have done so thus far.**

 **Anyway, I don't own any Disney characters.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop swishing your tail like that." Nick grinned at Liliya, who was walking around his small Muskova apartment in the nude.

"Oh? You mean like this?" She swished her tail again, rocking her hips. The movement perfectly accentuating her excellent figure.

Nick's grin widened. "You had best be careful Liliya, you may not make it to the bathroom if you keep doing that."

"Is that threat, Timo?" she teased back, leaning on the bathroom door frame, exposing herself to him fully.

"Hurry back," he said simply, winking. And with a soft chuckle, Liliya entered to bathroom and closed the door.

Ah, Liliya... Liliya, Liliya, Liliya. The beautiful Liliya Timoshenko. And what a beauty she was. Supple, lithe, thickly furred in all the right places. An Arctica fox, her pure, lush, white fur one of the things he liked so much about her. She was an excellent companion, both in a bed and out of it. And so she had been for a number of years, or at least, whenever he found himself in Arctica. He had met her in a bar in Muskova four years ago, had somehow charmed her into returning to his apartment, and there they had stayed.

He had loved her once, or so he thought. Had been utterly enraptured by her. She had made him feel alive in a way he hadn't in a long time. But his affections were unrequited. His every gesture and motion towards turning their relationship into a more permanent fixture repudiated. Not unkindly so, she was perhaps even more deft than he at getting what she wanted while making others believe they were getting what they wanted as well. It was part of her allure, really. Nevertheless she had made it clear that they were lovers, nothing more. 'Friends with benefits' was perhaps most apt.

It had been a disappointment for Nick at first. His slow realization that they would never be anything more pained him. But he had come to accept it over time. He had never turned her away, perhaps hoping that the more she spent with him she might reconsider their arrangement for the better. But that had never happened, and while Nick sometimes still wished for what could have been, the present was usually too fun for him to worry about it all too much.

She was a pleasant distraction from his work while he lived in the capital city of the Artician Federation. Work which demanded so much of his time and energy that moments like these were rare and fleeting. Perhaps that was why Liliya had never been interested in anything more. Recognizing that no matter what he said, he would never stay in Artica. Never really be _with_ her. She had no idea what he really did of course, nor his real name, she knew him as Timothy Blackear, well, to her he was Timofey, but that was the same thing in Arctician. He didn't tell her those things because to do so would have been the height of foolishness. Instead she believed he was an investor from Zootopia who would occasionally stop by to check on how his money was being spent. That wasn't entirely false either. Originally it had been simply a cover created for him by the ZIA. They had created his identity from thin air, invested in various companies across Arctica on his behalf, and then allowed him to manage them in his free time, what little of it there was. Over time though, he had gotten himself involved in other ventures, and he sometimes even made money on them. So now his manufactured identity as an entrepreneur wasn't quite so false, which just made the whole thing all the more convincing.

The buzzing of his phone pulled Nick from his reverie. Finnick had sent him a text: Oscar, Oscar, X-ray, OOX. It was a simple code. Just three letters agreed upon beforehand to signify the success or failure of a particular job. In this case the acquiring of something with which to blackmail the Chief of Staff of the Assistant Secretary of the Department of Regulation of State Financial Control, Auditing, Accounting and Records at the Ministry of Finance. It had been discovered that this aid had a certain proclivity for young mammals. _Very_ young. And all they had to do was give him the opportunity to act upon that proclivity for the dumb Ox to hang himself. OOX, _Our OX_ , told Nick that the job had been successful. They now had another informant at the Ministry of Finance, and one well placed to let them better see the inner workings of the Arctician government. And best of all, neither Nick's nor Finnick's paws would ever be found anywhere near this one. The Arctician government had many detractors, both within and without, and it was a simple matter to sick one of the many dissidents upon a government official. That was what they had done with this one. A goat who had been forced out of the Ministry had arranged the whole thing. There was beauty in that, the way it had been run. It was a work of art. Nearly as beautiful as the vixen in his bathroom.

Nick smiled at his phone. Yes, all of it was so beautiful. He sent his reply. He would get together with Finnick in a few hours for a debrief and an update on their various other projects, but for now, that could wait.

 _Beautiful_. The description stuck in his head and he scoffed at it. There was nothing beautiful about letting a pervert destroy some child's innocence simply for the sake gaining an edge in this great game. To call it 'beautiful' just seemed so... _wrong_. But it was, in its own way. It was an intelligence coup. The kind that one didn't stumble upon often. The effective exploitation of an enemy's weakness was the thing. The source of the terrifying beauty of it all…

Good god's... He was a fucking monst–

"Timofey! You said no more phone!"

"Yes, I know," he said placatingly. "I'm sorry. I just got a text."

Liliya eyed him skeptically. "You promised, Timo."

Ok, ok, it's going away now." And he slung it low along the floor so it slid through the open door into the kitchen. "See? It's really away now." He craned his neck after it when he heard it thud against something. "And see? It may be permanent now."

Liliya giggled, "Good boy. You check phone after," and she began to saunter towards him, rocking her hips seductively, until she stood over him at the bedside. She surveyed the naked fox before her with a predatory gleam in her eyes. "You look delicious, Timo."

He let out a soft chuckle, reached up, offering his paws to her. She accepted, clasping his paws in hers, and he dragged her down upon him. As he did so he winced, a slight pain in his shoulder, and he was briefly reminded of a far more pleasant time, not so long ago.

* * *

Nick stepped out of the front door of his apartment building and turned the collar of his coat up against the bite of the wind. It was snowing, lightly, but the closely packed buildings and narrow streets of this part of Muskova made for breezy living no matter the time of year. He surveyed the street briefly, looking for nothing in particular, and moved off, away from his home. It was cold out, more so than he expected, and while he had dressed appropriately, he cursed his natural winter coat for not being thicker.

It was beautiful night in Muskova, despite the cold. Quiet and still. The whole neighborhood pervaded by the peaceful calm only possible when it snowed. Nick liked the snow, could stare up into the sky for ages and watch as the hundreds of millions of tiny white flakes fell from the heavens. It was calming, the tiny specks of ice settling upon his face, it helped him think. And now, on this walk, he needed to think.

Events were were moving quite rapidly these days. About 10 years ago, Arctica had experienced a period of intense internal strife, and for a time it looked as though the the entire country would dissolve into civil war. In an effort to stave off disaster, the central government of Arctica, commonly known as the Krasnydom after the fortress in which the parliament was held, had given its various provinces an unprecedented amount of autonomy. It worked, and the country stabilized, but it also gave the provincials a taste for the sort of self determination that could not be tolerated in a unified nation state.

And the consequences of that were finally being felt. Three months ago, one of the southern most provinces, Ossetia, had declared its independence from the Arctician Federation and formed the Independent Mammals Republic of Ossetia. It did not come as a total shock to anyone who had been paying attention. Rumors had been flying all over the world for nearly six months before that not all was well in the little province of Ossetia.

Ossetia was not an important province by any means, rather, it was one of the poorer, less developed parts of Arctica. It had been neglected by the Krasnydom for decades. Funding for public works projects and infrastructure, earmarked for the region, was often diverted elsewhere, to places deemed more important. That state of affairs left the mammals discontented with their Federal Government, and their new found autonomy only fed the narrative that they would be better off outside of the Federation. All of this had been long in the making, ten years in fact, longer even. But all the frustrations, anger, and fear had finally pushed the people of the province past the point of no return. They ousted their parliament, declared their independence, and at the same time, also declared that they were prepared to defend it.

All this created a problem for the Krasnydom. They had never liked what they had been forced to do, and ever since they had given the provinces what basically amounted to pseudo-statehood they had worked to regain their grip on the nation. Ossetia was not an important province. Far from it, the Krasnydom's perspective was that the whole place could have sunk into the ocean never to be seen again, and that would have been ok. Unfortunate of course, but such is life. And perhaps that would have been better for the Ossetians anyway, because now they were creating a precedent that Arctica, nor any nation state for that matter, simply couldn't tolerate. Under no circumstance could Arctica allow one of her provinces to secede. To do so would be to delegitimize the nation as a whole, and it would fall apart. Split into various rump states all vying for control, for hegemony.

No they could not tolerate that. It was all so very clear to anyone watching.

War was coming.

The buildup had been obvious. Nick constantly fed information back to Zootopia, but such a large mobilization of forces couldn't have been missed by anyone. 125,000 troops, 423 tanks, more than 1000 other armored vehicles were moved to the border of the nascent republic all organized under the new 64th Army. In addition, three Combat Helicopter Regiments, two Assault Aviation regiments, and one Fighter Aviation Regiment totaling more than 180 attack helicopters, 40 tactical bombers, 27 fighters, and various other support aircraft was attached to the 64th. It was a massive commitment for such a small region, but Muskova wanted to make the message clear: Stay or die.

And die they did. The invasion had started barely two weeks before, but already the 64th Army was at the gates of the Ossetia's new capital, Gromney. An assault was imminent. It would be bloody, very bloody. Storming a city always was, even against an opponent with decidedly inferior firepower and organization. But Nick had no doubt that Gromney would fall and with it the remaining resistance in Ossetia.

In response to all these events, the Zootopian Intelligence Committee had asked him to assess the viability of supplying the Ossetians with weapons. The mammals in charge back home were always ready to kick their geopolitical rivals when they were down. But Nick, and indeed most of his staff, felt it far too risky with far too little gain. If Zootopian weapons started showing up in the hands of Arctician separatists in large numbers it would have created an incident. Set a bad precedent. Instead, they sold them information. Troop movements, dispositions, even reports on the discussions being had in the Krasnydom. All of this they needed desperately, as they had no means to acquire most of that on their own.

The snow was falling heavier then as Nick continued his trek across the neighborhoods of Muskova. He looked about him, admiring the way the snow defused the streetlights, casting everything in a warm orange glow. He stopped halfway down a row of apartments, looked up into the sky, and let his concerns about this little war fall away, he could talk all about them with Finnick when he got to his partner's apartment. For now, and for the rest of the walk, he wished to think of nothing.

Something prickled at the edge of his vision then, as he tried to clear his head of everything. And he could have sworn, for just a second, he saw someone standing across the street, watching him. But when he looked there was no one there, and the snow on the opposite sidewalk lay undisturbed by any passerby.

He had seen her again. As he had often done over these last few months. A shape in the corner of his vision somehow tricking his mind into putting her there. It had frustrated him at first, that somehow she had invaded his mind and made it fill every blank space with an image of her. It was strange, how much he still thought about her. Had believed that she would simply pass through the archive of his mind like so many before her and be forgotten. But she had refused the go so quietly into the night. The irony was not lost in Nick. That the memory of her was just as tenacious as the genuine article. He wished the best for her, truly, whatever that ended up looking like. He still really wasn't sure he believed she would make it as a cop, but he supposed that if any rabbit could do it, it would be her. He hoped at the very least she had put his gift to good use. Hoped it would soften her reaction to her inevitable discovery that he wasn't what he said he was. That regardless of whether or not he was a cop, the things he had told her, all of his best wishes and encouragement, all of that was real.

He had sent her 5,000 Bucks, and the latest study material for not only the ZPD entrance exam but for much of the academy. It was the least he could do really. Figured she could use the extra money to get herself set up in the city if she didn't blow it all just trying to get into the ZPD in the first place.

She was a strange rabbit, far different than his normal conception of what a rabbit should be. She stood out, and he hoped she never lost that. She had been a refreshing presence in his life for the short time they knew each other. He understood that more now that he had some distance from it all.

He continued on walking, the snow crunching softly beneath his feet, ruminating on the rabbit that seemed stuck in his head. He wanted to keep his promise. The one he had made to her as they stood there in the darkness in front of her burrow. To go to her graduation from the ZPD Academy. If she ever had one. She hadn't even joined yet, he knew that much. Had made it a point to monitor the applicants and trainees. Had sort of a detached curiosity about the whole thing. Could a rabbit really become a cop? He harbored no illusions that the ZPD was some sort of elite organization only open to the very best society could offer. It was a police force, not some secretive, and very useful, military organization that was only known by some silly name like 'The Unit'. But nevertheless it still required some sort of physical minimums. He had no doubt she would be fine when it came to exams and studying. She had a sharp mind, and a part of him had often wondered if she was wasting her talents in becoming a police officer. But how could a tiny little bunny take down a Rhino? Actually… to be fair his training included a lot of dissimilar opponent combat, and he knew how to take down much larger mammals than himself. But the nature of his training was vastly different than what would be acceptable for a cop. As a cop you couldn't cut a hamstring or kick them in the balls, and your first inclination certainly wouldn't be to shoot them. You had to apprehend your targets more or less intact, alive too.

Eh, she would figure something out. She had to join first anyway... What the hell was taking her so long? It had been nearly 4 months. That should have been plenty of time to study and get all her shit together. She had better not have given up on it again. Not after he sent her all that crap. It hadn't been cheap, and he wouldn't appreciate it if she had squandered the only physical manifestation of his goodwill. Damn bunny.

Shit, now he was annoyed with her, and for no good reason too. Damn bunny.

He turned into an alleyway and walked down a short flight of stairs that terminated at a door. He would have to forget about her for now and he was almost thankful for the distraction. He had work to do.

He reach up towards the door, knocked twice, waited… waited… knocked five times, and then took a step back, watching the door expectantly. He was rewarded by the clanking sound of deadbolts unlocking, a large number of them too. Finnick had installed at least 7 on this door. Paranoid bastard. It swing inwards, just barely.

"You're early Nick."

"Only by 15 minutes," he replied, glancing at the clock on his phone. It read 9:47 PM.

"Yeah, well we agreed on 10." Finnick shot back, clearly annoyed with him though Nick could not understand why.

"Gods Finnick, who fucking cares? Let me in! It's cold out here."

"Ok, ok," Finnick let out an exasperated sigh, "gimme a minute."

"Are you serious? You are just gonna make me stand out here, in the cold, while you screw around?"

Finnick looked Nick square in the eye and said matter of factly, "Yes," and then closed the door, locking it with a loud and purposeful click.

"Bastard," Nick said under his breath. He wondered what Finnick could be hiding that he would make him wait out there. He stepped nearer the door and listened intently. Voices, he could hear voices. One was certainly Finnick, the robust depth and tenor of the sound was evident even through the door. But the other was something different, something altogether more delicate. A vixen, that's what it sounded like, Finnick was hiding a vixen. He laughed to himself, the situation so juvenile. What did he care what Finnick was doing in his free time? As long as it didn't impact his work… the pieces clicked into place then and Nick's curiosity piqued.

He heard a sound behind the door, the click of the latch releasing, and once again Finnick appeared before him, looking a little worse for wear. He gestured for Nick to enter, and the offer was gratefully accepted.

Nick surveyed the small living room, anxious to discover clues surrounding this new little mystery. The place was a mess, clothes strewn across the couches, empty boxes of every description scattered about the room. Computer equipment was everywhere. Wires snaking off in every direction. But one of the things on the couch was not like the rest. There was a purse sitting next to a small pile of boxes filled with file folders and documents. Black leather, with a large gold clasp embossed with the letter C. Nick tested the air. The place reeked of Finnick, as one would expect, but amongst all the accompanying scents there was another that just didn't seem to belong. It was a scent he recognized but couldn't place. Curious.

Nick gave Finnick a sideways glance.

"What?" Finnick said defensively.

Nick shrugged. "It's even worse than the last time I was here."

"Well then tell the idiots at the Embassy to stop sending me their shit! I got even more boxes yesterday! And why aren't they send you this crap?"

Nick grinned at his partner. "I never told them where I lived."

Finnick stared at him for one long moment, incredulous. Then he threw up his arms and exclaimed, "Are you fucking kidding me? I didn't have to tell them that? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you knew. You know why we aren't working out of there this time, why would we have told them where our places are?"

Finnick let out an exasperated sigh. "Godsdamnit, you should have told me."

"I probably did."

Ah, the scent, he located the trail. The bedroom. The door to the bedroom was behind Finnick, but he could smell the foreign scent even with Finnick in the way. He had him distracted though, fussing with the mess, and he hadn't noticed the purse. Nick casually strode by his partner, and approached the door. He placed his paw on the door and for moment, again wondered why doors these days seemed to make him uneasy. As if behind each one was a monster waiting to pounce.

"Wait, Nick, don't you dare open–" Finnick noticed him, but it was far too late, the door was already swinging open. And there, sitting on the bed in nothing but a tee shirt and underwear, working on a laptop, was Jackie Gleason, an analyst from the embassy.

They stared at one another for moment, and then, breaking the silence, Nick said, "Well, you're not who I expected to be in here. How's it going Jackie?"

Jackie chucked ashamedly, "Pretty good Nick, how about yourself?"

"Eh, about the–"

Finnick exclaimed, "Godsdamnit Nick, I told you never to open that fucking door!"

"Finnick!" Jackie shouted at him from her place on the bed. "Stop it! You know I hate it when you yell like that. So Nick, you were saying?" she continued with a pleasant smile.

Nick glanced back a Finnick and saw that he looked about ready to explode, but surprisingly he held his tongue. Impressive.

"So, you and Finnick, eh?" He eyed the two skeptically.

"What? So what if she's bigger than me?" Finnick jumped on the question, reading into it far too deeply.

"Hah! A little insecure there Finnick? No, I just thought the two of you hated each other," Nick said, referring to a number of incidents between the two of them the last time Finnick was in Arctica. Jackie was a grey fox who had been working in the Zootopian embassy in Muskova for nearly six years. She had a very good grasp of the situation of the ground and was an invaluable resource, but she and Finnick had often not seen things eye to eye when it came to which sources they should trust and pursue, and Jackie was no less headstrong than he, which lead to more than a few rows in Nick's old office.

Jackie chuckled, eyeing Finnick playfully who said in a tone which made evident his frustration, "We _reconciled_ our differences."

"Clearly," Nick replied, shooting Jackie a wink.

She returned it with a mischievous smile. "I could just never stay mad at him, he is like a little teddy bear."

Nick burst out laughing, the sound drowning out Finnick's furious reply. Yes, this was probably a good thing, though he wasn't exactly happy that this was how he found out. He would have to commiserate with her later on how to best push Finnick's buttons. But, there was still a problem.

"So," Nick continued once he recovered, his tone suddenly serious, "I don't really care what you two do in your free time, but if it impacts your work at all, neither of you will enjoy the outcome. Do you both understand?" They both nodded meekly, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "Good," Nick said, backing out of the bedroom. "Now Jackie, I really hate to do this to you, but you gotta leave."

They both stared at him incredulously before they each launched into demands for explanations and flat out refusals. Nick silenced them both by raising his paw and said, "You are not privy to much of what we are about to discuss, need to know and all that. So I cannot have you sitting in this room where you are liable to become privy to it. I just can't have that."

"Nick," Finnick replied, "she won't hear shit through the door, and she already knows about all this anyway."

"Seriously Nick, you have basically kept me in the loop for everything this time around. I won't hear anything I don't already know about," Jackie jumped in. "But," she offered, "if it would make you feel more comfortable I will put in headphones or something."

"That's perfect," Finnick filled the gap before Nick could reply, "no need to kick her out into the cold. Besides where do you expect her to go?"

Nick looked between the two of them, confused at what he had just heard. "You live here?" he said to Jackie.

Again they both launched into explanations. No, of course she didn't live there, don't be silly, she just apparently spent all her free time at Finnick's place. And, oh, by the way she hadn't been back to her apartment in three months, and oh yeah, she stopped paying rent on it two months ago.

Nick closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and made a frantic gesture to silence them both. "Ok whatever, I don't care. You can stay Jackie, but put on those headphones."

She smiled sweetly at him. "You're the best Nick!"

Nick rolled his as eyes and began to close the door. "Yeah yeah, it was good to see you Jackie." She waved at him as the door closed, her smile only growing wider.

Nick let out a long, exasperated sigh, he was not happy about this arrangement. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jackie, far from it. He just hated making exceptions to these sorts of rules. That was how agents got into trouble, how he got into trouble.

"I told you not to open the door," said Finnick reacting to his sigh.

Nick gave him a look that made it clear that now was not the time. "Next time we have one of these meetings Finnick, she is not to be here, do you understand?"

"Well, where is she supposed to go?" Finnick shot back.

"I don't care, anywhere but here. You know better Finnick. I shouldn't have to remind you how important opsec is. Violating that shit is how mammals get fucking killed. Pulling this kind of garbage is not what I expected from you."

Finnick, who had still been spoiling for a fight, visibly deflated, and he looked away.

"I know Nick, but–"

"Finnick, you know one of the reasons why I got my dumb ass blown up back in the Docks? It was because I was careless and didn't follow protocol. A hamster is dead because of me and I almost followed him. I am not going to let that happen again."

Nick let him chew on that for a moment. He didn't like reprimanding his staff, and certainly not Finnick, who's history with him went far beyond the ZIA, sometimes however it was necessary. But he didn't wish to prolong the pain.

"Now," Nick clapped his paws together, "what have you got for me Finnick?"

Finnick, clearly still smarting, sat down in front of one of the computers and brought up a spreadsheet. It was a rough checklist they used to keep track of things. That particular computer was one of the few in the room not connected to the internet, and they used it for much of their internal documentation. Better to be safe than sorry.

"The Nikodim op went well, as you know. When our agent showed him the footage he basically bent over backwards trying to make sure our mammal would keep quiet. He has given us access to his email and network account, and he promised to forward us his personal notes on all the meetings he attends."

"We don't need to turn the screws at all huh?" Nick asked rhetorically, "Thats a good outcome. Good job."

Finnick grunted his thanks, still reluctant to make eye contact. Shit, now he was just making Nick feel bad.

"How's the war going?" Nick asked.

"Bad." Finnick replied.

"Oh really?" Nick said, furrowing his brow, unsure of what Finnick meant.

"Yeah, really bad. The assault on Gromney started about 7 hours ago, and they've already bogged down. The reports we have gotten from Colonel Veselov… you remember him right?" Finnick asked, noticing the look of incomprehension upon Nick's face.

Nick pondered the name for a moment. Veselov, Veselov… No it didn't ring a bell. Though so many names crossed his desk these days it was hard to keep them all together. "Remind me." he finally said.

Finnick sighed, rolling his eyes. "He's the colonel who we turned by ensuring his kid got into the Zootopian Institute of Technology? He's a stag I think. Also had a big problem with the military being used against its own mammals."

"Oh yeah, I remember him. He was the one who was assigned as a communication officer to the 64th's HQ." It didn't always require nasty things like blackmail to get what you wanted in this business, Nick reflected. Though being nice usually only got you so far. "How's his kid doing by the way?"

"How should I know?" Finnick replied.

"Oh come now Finnick, I know you're the sentimental type." Nick said sarcastically. "You keep tabs on him don't you?"

Finnick affixed him with a cold stare and Nick couldn't help but snicker. Ah, it was good to see he was getting over the scolding.

"Anyway," Finnick continued, "the reports we have gotten so far have been bad. The assaults have been a disaster. In 7 hours they have lost about 30 tanks and more than twice that number in APCs."

"Casualty reports?"

"Nothing concrete yet," Finnick shook his head, "a lot of conflicting information has been coming in, but at least five hundred, probably more. The Ossetians were much better equipped and organized than Muskova expected I guess."

The Ossetians could never have beaten Arctician forces in the open. They simply didn't have the equipment or training. Zeal only gets one so far. So for the last two weeks they had constantly conceded ground, and it looked like the things would be over quickly. But apparently they weren't totally out of the fight yet. It was smart, fighting in the city. A big advantage of modern equipment was that it allowed soldiers to hit things from far away, before they were spotted and the enemy could effectively return fire. Much of that advantage was nullified in the city however, where engagement ranges could be measured in the tens of meters rather than hundreds and thousands. There were ways to fight effectively in a city, but no matter how proficient a force might be, fighting in built up areas was always costly. And not just for the soldiers.

"Any reports on civilian casualties?"

"Nothing yet, though as you know a lot of mammals decided not to leave, and the new PM refused to allow the parliament to abandon the city just yet."

"Would certainly be bad for morale."

"Yeah…" Finnick trailed off, reading something on a laptop, "Looks like, Mammal Right Watch is already reporting 25,000 civilian casualties so far in this little war. 150,000 displaced too."

"Why do they even bother?" Nick scoffed. "Everyone knows there is no way to verify those figures yet."

"Yeah it just hurts their credibility, but then they'll do anything to take a shot at Muskova, eh?"

"Is this the order of battle for the assault forces?" Nick asked, picking up a printout.

"Uhhh, yeah…" Finnick replied, glancing at the printout and then rooting around the rest of the piles of paper. "There is another page… here it is." He handed Nick another sheet.

"Good gods, most of these regiments are conscripts... " he said, glancing over the sheets. "They kept the fucking 17th Guards Motorized Rifle Division in reserve, what the hell are they doing?"

Finnick shrugged. "I think that was the marching order as they came up to the city. I guess they thought they could take it from the march. Oh, it looks like they lost two helicopters too."

Nick grunted. "Well, that is all pretty embarrassing for them, but one bad assault does not end a battle. We will have to see how it goes over the next few days."

"Or weeks." Finnick added, and Nick nodded in agreement. Finnick was right, if the Ossetians continued to make them fight for the city like they had on the first day, this would be a long battle. It was too early to tell though. Very little could be determined by one day of fighting.

"All these reports have been forwarded to the Embassy?"

"Well," Finnick began, "I summarized them before I sent them over, but they know."

"Good, good…" Nick trailed off, still looking at the printouts in his paws. Poor bastards. To take a defended city without getting torn to shreds in the process you needed to know what you were doing. The units listed before him assuredly did not. Most of them had been raised specifically to crush this little rebellion, the soldiers in them reservists, little more than weekend warriors. Such was the state of the Arctician military that they tended to fill out out their ranks with conscripts and reservist in times of crisis. It usually meant high casualties as first, at least until everyone figured out what they were doing, and it came as no surprise that their first time in a city had gone badly. Further, that they had tried to take the city on the fly, apparently believing it only lightly defended. That told him that the Arctician intelligence apparatus must have been struggling to keep up with the war. An illuminating revelation, if that was truly the lesson that could be learned. He made a mental note to look into it further.

"Alright." He placed the printouts back down upon the table. "Let's go over the rest of it then."

And so they did, Nick digesting each new information point as Finnick covered everything. Their successes, failures, the statuses of their various agents, reports and orders from home, and everything else that went into running an intelligence network in hostile territory.

"We will need to rewire the Ministry of the Interior building."

"How many of the bugs did they find?"

"Nearly half."

"Did they figure out who placed them?"

"No, it doesn't look like it."

"Ok, don't use him again. Get someone else to do it."

And on they went, meandering through their numerous operations late into the night. They finished it all eventually, digested everything, issued orders to their various actors all across Arctica. It was a big job to handle by themselves, just the two of them managing what amounted to hundreds of mammals all told. Though perhaps that was overstating the task, neither of them had to do everything. This wasn't Nick's first party, he knew how to delegate.

Nick glanced at the clock on his phone, 1:17 AM. It had been a long day, though his evening had certainly been pleasant, and he was in no mood to make the trek back to his apartment. "Finnick, I'm just gonna crash here tonight, alright?" He laid down on one of the couches.

"Whatever, Nick... Oh, looks like some real casualty returns are coming in."

"That was fast, read 'em."

"38th Motorized Rifle Division is reporting 107 dead, 282 wounded, 147 missing. Looks like they got the worst of it."

"Bullshit. In one day?"

"Yeah I don't know, that seems like a lot. That just can't be right," Finnick replied, rereading the report.

"Don't forward that until we know more. There is no way the 38th took 500 casualties in one day of fighting. What are the other divisions reporting?"

"53rd Motorized Rifle Division is reporting…" And he listed the figures for each participating division in turn, both Motorized Rifle and Tank. It had been a bad day for the 64th Army, regardless of whether or not they had inflated their casualty reports. It had devoted four of its 11 divisions to the assault, the remaining seven arrayed on the flanks of the assault group, and those four had been bloodily repulsed, though that wasn't quite right, it seemed the 17th Guards hadn't even been committed, and the weather had prevented any sort of air support aside from the attack helicopters. Tomorrow was another day though. They would take the city eventually. Each Motorized Rifle Division had an on paper strength of 13,200 mammals, though actual front line combat strength was closer to 9,500. While the one Tank Division had an on paper strength of about 11,500 mammals and 245 tanks. In actuality, each Rifle division committed, the 38th and 53rd, had about 10,000 mammals in their ranks, and a combat strength of around 8,000 mammals, while the 109th Tank Division had about 7,500 mammals and 155 tanks. The 17th Guards had 12,375, or at least they did two days before. Of course, perhaps only 3,500 troops had entered the City that day, giving the Ossetians a clear local numerical advantage. A good rule of thumb for the sort of forces needed to successfully execute an assault was that the attacker needed a force ratio of 3:1 in their favor. In a city you needed even more. The Arctician forces hadn't achieved that, far from it. In fact, it was nearly the exact opposite. According to Nick's sources the Ossetian forces in Gromney had about 8,500 soldiers and 43 tanks. Older ones too, UT-82s, not the UT-90s fielded by the Arctician forces. Though those numbers would undoubtedly swell in the coming days, but given the overall balance of forces, it was inevitable that the city should fall. But the Arcticians had lost their best chance to do it quickly. Both sides would now pour mammals and equipment into the grinder. The Ossetians would not sell their capital cheaply.

Gromney would fall, and with it the dream of Ossetian independence, but it clearly wasn't going down without a fight. But then perhaps not. Many put too much importance on cities. He wished them the best really, but at this point, that was all he could do.

"Is there anything else pressing Finn?" he asked quietly from his position on the couch.

"No that's it, it looks like." He glanced over at Nick when he didn't respond, but his partner was already asleep.

* * *

 **Thats all for chapter 10, hope you enjoyed it! I have some interesting things in store for Nick, so stay tuned!**

 **I hope no one got lost in all the numbers, I admit I wrote much of that simply for my own edification. I have been reading a lot of David Glantz lately, so it has gotten me into the mood to write about a campaign. If anyone is interested in the Eastern Front of WW2, I highly recommend him.**

 **Again, all reviews and questions are welcome.**

 **Be well everyone!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone! I bring you the first chapter of Judy's side of this new arc!**

 **To everyone who has reviewed and subscribed so far, thanks so much, the response to this story so far has been overwhelming, and far better than I ever imagined.**

 **There have been a couple of reviews though that might be bugged or something. I get a notification for them, but then FF says the review doesn't exist. I try to respond to most of my reviews, and I am sorry if your review didn't get one as a result of that.**

 **I don't own any Disney characters.**

 **Happy reading!**

* * *

Judy closed her book and let out a long, satisfied sigh. She was finally ready. It had been a long road, but tomorrow she would once again get on a train to Zootopia and take the entrance exam to the ZPD Academy. She was nervous, of course, though the feeling was nothing like it had been four months ago. She felt nervous, but ready.

She had worked harder for this than probably anything else she had ever done in her life. The last four months had been a cycle of sleep, working for the family, exercise, studying late into the night, and then more sleep. It had been tough on her, in more ways than one. She had practically shut herself off from most of the family outside of the necessities. Not out of any sort of spite, but simply to avoid distraction. And her family wasn't the only thing she had neglected. Sleep for one, though she would be going to bed early. Her friends too, though she had been neglecting them for far longer than just four months. Certainly the family business, often taking any excuse she could to leave early. He parents hadn't said anything, but she knew they both knew. That wasn't such a problem anymore these days though, both her mother and father had begun to step out of her way over the last few months.

She had told them about a month ago that she had signed up for the exam, and that, if she passed, she would be joining the ZPD Police Academy. Her parents had lodged their usual complaints: it was too dangerous, the city was too far, how would she take care of the farm, and all the rest. In the past Judy might have tried to argue, debunking each in turn, but she was past that. Comfortable in the path she was choosing, and so she tried a different tack. She said simply, "I know you are concerned, I understand. I need to do this though, for myself, I'll never be happy if I don't try."

Her parents had been silent then, both trading pained glances, until her father let out a defeated sigh and said, "Oh gosh darnit, that's what John said too…"

That surprised her, that her father had spoken to Nick, even more so that he listened. Nick had said nothing, though they hadn't spoken of much after she returned from the city. But as far as she knew her father couldn't stand the fox. He had after all made that very clear on the first day Nicholas had awoken.

"Judy, ok," her mother continued where her father left off. "We know that we couldn't stop you if we tried… that it would be wrong too… we just–" and she cut herself short with a sob.

"We just don't want our little girl to get hurt," her father finished the sentence. "And we don't want you to go off to the big city and forget where you come from. You're a rabbit you know?"

She supposed she did, on some level. Though she knew she never wanted to live in Bunnyburrow again, she knew she would bring the Burrow to the city. "Yeah, I do," was all she said.

That hadn't been enough for them though, now that they had accepted her plans to leave they needed to know the details. Where would she live, how would she get to work, did she know anyone in the city, any rabbits, what about Jeremy? She told them all these things and more, had been planning for months. Knew exactly what she wanted, and what to look for. It would be scary at first, but she would be fine.

They weren't done though. "Who will you go to if you get into trouble?" her mother asked.

"What about John? He's a cop isn't he Judy?" her father replied. Again he surprised her.

"No! He's a predator!" her mother exclaimed.

"Exactly, Bonnie! Who better to protect Judy from the dangers of the city than one of the very mammals who make it that way?"

And so Judy had sat, marveling at the argument before her.

That had been a month ago. A long month. But it was in many ways the culmination of much of her effort over the years. She had a place to stay for a few days, had been in touch with her father's sister, had even began researching things to see all over the city. She was prepared. She was ready.

And through it all, there was one other thing that stolen a place at the forefront of her mind: Nick Wilde.

She looked over at the opened package that sat next to her desk. When she had received it, nearly three weeks after his sudden departure, she had known instantly who it had been from, though there was no return address. Who else would have sent her a package? It had contained study material, a lot of it. Everything she would need to succeed in the Academy. All sorts of flash cards, cheat sheets, workbooks, _everything_. All of this had been accompanied by a simple, unsigned, handwritten note that said:

" _I took the road less travelled by, and that has made all the difference._

 _You should too._

– _Good luck."_

She had been so happy. Happy that she now had the materials she needed to get into the Academy, but more importantly, happy that there was still a connection between them. She had spent many an hour lamenting the fact that despite everything that had happened between them she hadn't asked him for some way to get in touch. Hadn't even asked for his number. She had been so stupid, forgetting something like that. It would have been nice to know someone in the city once she got there. Someone to show her the ropes. Make sure she didn't do anything dumb, like knock over a building in Little Rodentia. After he left she had been worried that that had been the end of it, despite his promise to go to her graduation. How would have even know when it was if she didn't tell him after all? But the box had proven to her that, wherever he was, that he was still thinking of her. And that made her happy.

There had been another surprise contained in that package though, hidden in an envelope amongst the folds at the bottom of the box. 5,000 Bucks. When she realized what it was it had almost flown from her paws as it had been on fire. The bills scattering about her room. In that too was a note, again written by the same paw. Nick's paw. It said:

 _For the next time you try to take that test. And the next after that too, if you need it._

For minutes she stared at the message. Trying in vain to process everything before her. And then she noticed something written on the back:

 _You won't though._

5,000 Bucks. She had never seen that amount of money outside a safe. It was more than twice what she made in a year, and could fund 10 more attempts at the Academy and still have some left over. But… no… she couldn't. She couldn't take something like this. Something so huge. Couldn't even understand how he could have afforded such a gift, and to send it to _her_. She cried. The magnitude of it all finally evident.

She had hidden all of the money. Back at the bottom of the box beneath all the Academy material. But for the first few days she would check on it, just to be sure that it wasn't a part of some bizarre dream. But the money was real, and that reality had compelled her over the days and weeks that followed to debate with herself over what to do with it. She appreciated the gesture immensely, but how could she ever accept so much money? 5,000 Bucks was _a lot._ And she quickly settled upon leaving it, and returning it to Nick as soon as she could. Upon reviewing her finances however she realized just how important that little gift actually was. She wasn't destitute, but much of her funds were going to her family in one way or another. There was little chance of her having enough to stay in the city unless she used some of the money now in her possession. So, she had compromised, she would spend of it what she needed, but no more, and once she was an officer she would save money each pay cycle until she could return the gift in full.

And then there was the matter of the letters. Those had also had a profound impact upon her. She had posted them both to her cork board, the message on the back of the second displayed proudly even if it only made sense to her. She wouldn't need to take the test again. Never again. She would pass, and then she would take the next step, and then the next after that, and onwards she would go. And at the end of the tunnel would be a lot of things. Her dream job for one, but also, a smiling red fox.

Yes he would be there, and maybe, just maybe, that wouldn't be all.

She blushed, her ears turning a bright pink. She had long ago recognized that it was really pretty weird that she was attracted to him like she was. But she had also recognized long ago that she didn't much care. It was only a silly little crush, there was no harm in it, and in the meantime it was fun to imagine what a relationship with him would be like. _Foxy._ She had decided, and she still grinned to herself whenever the thought arose.

She stood up, chuckling to herself and looked about her room. All of her things were packed, not that she needed much of it. She would only be gone three days, and pass or fail she would come back here for the short time before the next training class began, just two weeks. Even so she hadn't been able to hold herself back, and she had packed much of what she wished to have with her when she moved to the city. The room looked rather bare now, with much of her own personal flair removed. She knew that anything she didn't take with her would just be absorbed into the possessions of whomever were to take the room next, and so she had been careful not to leave anything she cared about. Categorizing it all and neatly packing everything into boxes. It was a little sad really. It wasn't quite the end of things, end of an era really, but it was obviously approaching rapidly.

Her breath caught in her chest. She would miss this place. Miss everyone.

It finally hit her, as she looked about her room, the gravity of what she was about to embark upon. She was casting loose _everything_ that made up her life until that point. All her family, all her friends, everything that made her feel comfortable and safe, the places and most of the things. She was letting go of all of it and forging out into the great and terrifying unknown. And that was exactly what it was, truly. This would undoubtedly be the most frightening thing she would ever do. Her family, in large part, was already against her path, it wasn't just her parents she heard it from. It came from all quarters, her siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, even grandparents. And she wasn't just taking a trip, she was moving away, _far away,_ far beyond where anyone she knew, except for Stu's sister, had ever gone before.

It felt like she was abandoning them, and she was afraid that they felt the same way, that the moment she stepped foot out the door that she would never be welcomed back in. That she would be talked about in the same way her brother Christopher was spoken of. As if she was long dead of a tragic accident. It made her shudder, as if she was experiencing a great and terrible loss. Things would be so different after she was gone. Would they ever call, wondering how she was doing? Would they ever visit? Would she be truly alone out there in the big city? She had no friends out there, and no family apart from Stu's sister Sylvia, who she hadn't seen in years. And Nick. She did have him, he would be there, to guide her through it all.

She calmed down, just slightly. Her family would be angry with her, was probably angry at her even at that very moment. But she wasn't alone. she had Nick, and she would make other friends, see so many new things and places… she would be unafraid how her choices might be received by her family.

Yes, there was that. She would no longer have to live how they wished her to. She could take her own life into her own paws and do with it what she wished, how and when she wished it. She would no longer have to live with the constant judgement of her family, the relentless gossiping, and occasional outright scorn. She would be free of all that, and she would make her own life. And it would be good, because it was hers.

"Judy?" The sound came from beyond her door, and Judy turned towards it to reply.

"Yeah mom, whats up?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course, it's not locked," Judy replied, perhaps a little impatiently.

Her mother entered and surveyed the room, unhappy resignation written across her face, evidently just as affected by its bare state as Judy was.

"Judy... " she sighed, " I know things haven't been so… _great_ between us. And I am still _really_ not comfortable with where you are going and what you are doing." Judy prepared herself for another arguement. "But I want you to know Judy, that, both your father and I love you, and..." she paused as if trying to find the right words, "and we will be seeing you off tomorrow at the station. Most of us will."

"Really?" Judy replied, surprise written over her face.

"Yes of course Judy. Our family sticks together, even if we aren't always happy with each other. You know that. Have we stopped visiting you brother Eric after he married one of the Cottontails? No of course not. His in-laws may not be worth the dirt they live in, but he is still my son and part of the family… And his wife isn't too bad either." The last was added as an afterthought. "But of course, I don't mean to say that becoming a police officer is anything like that," she clarified, obviously conscientious of any possible slight.

"Mom, I…" Judy attempted a reply, but she was too caught up in the gestured being offered. It wasn't the same as whole hearted support but it was the closest her mother had ever come. She could do nothing but hug her, and so she did. Hoping it it would be enough to convey what she felt.

It was. "I am sorry if we ever made you think we wouldn't be there for you. That's not right. I am really proud of the rabbit you are becoming. You're very brave. Far braver than I ever was."

Judy tried not to cry, had scolded herself time and again for her propensity to do so, and she stopped herself only with immense effort. This small gesture meant the world to her, truly, but she would not cry.

* * *

It was a gorgeous day. The weather conspiring to put on its best for her departure, despite the season.

Fall was a beautiful time in her home. The vibrance of the colors always amazed her. Kept her looking forward to each new day, hoping to see the new change. And they did not disappoint. The reds, oranges, and yellows lining her way to the station. The best day of it too. As if even the very trees were giving her a rousing send off.

Her whole family had come. Well, that wasn't true. Much of it hadn't, for various reasons, but all the ones she felt closest to did – nearly one hundred – and that was what mattered. They had, some of them despite their feelings, rallied around her, at least for this, and it had been decided that she wouldn't go anywhere without all of them seeing her away.

She loved her family. Despite all of it, she loved them. That didn't mean they still didn't frustrate her however, even now, her father was lecturing her about how dangerous Zootopia was.

"It's not that we don't want you to go sweetums… well we don't, right Bonnie?" She rolled her eyes. "Right, we just knew how dangerous a big city like Zootopia can be. My sister told me she was almost stepped on once!"

"Dad, I'll be fine. I'll keep an eye out for larger mammals."

"I know you will Judy, but no one ever gets _stepped on_ in Bunnyburrow. That's what you are giving up Judy. That's the sort of peace of mind you will come to miss once you've been gone," he said matter of factly.

Judy chuckled. "Dad, I know, I know. But sometimes you have to take risks right? I think I am willing to take the risk of being stepped on."

"You _think_? Judy, being stepped on is not pretty. I would know I–"

"What I think your father is trying to say," Bonnie interrupted, "is that we want you to be careful. Zootopia is so big, and so far away."

"Yeah… I just…"

"We know Judy," she soothed. "Just take care of yourself Judy. Its big world out there."

"Oh!" her father exclaimed. "And just think of all the predators! Lions, and, and _wolves-"_

"Wolves?" her mother interjected. "Darling, this is really not the time."

"Yeah, yeah, and weasels–"

"You play cribbage with a weasel–"

"And he cheats like there's no tomorrow." Her mother rolled her eyes again, letting out an exasperated sigh. "You know, just stay away from all predators. They are all dangerous, and Zootopia is full of them. Oh, and especially foxes!"

"Dad! A fox just spent more than a month in the burrow."

"Yeah, so I know what I am talking about." He gestured pointedly.

"You told me he wasn't so bad just yesterday!"

"Well… yes that's true," Stu replied, gesticulating wildly in his excitement, "he was alright. And he was practically a Ham…"

"What?" Judy asked, not sure what he was talking about.

"Judy," again he mother interjected, "John might have been alright, but don't expect other foxes to be so nice. They are dangerous, it's in their biology. Remember what happened with Gideon Grey?"

"Mom! I was nine. So one fox was a jerk, that doesn't mean they all are."

Her father sucked his teeth before replying, "You have a lot to learn Judy. Oh! We put you together a care package!" He turned and motioned to one of her siblings, who dutifully proffered up a small bag. "Here look... " And he starting picking things out of the bag. "Ah, fox pheromones, see?" He held up a small container emblazoned with a grinning fox.

Judy recoiled, a little alarmed. "Uh, dad, I don't think that that is what you think it is."

"What do you mean Judy?" he asked, as he continued to show her items in the bag. "Oh, and fox repellant, and… oh! A taser!" He pulled a larger taser from the bag, activating it as it did so. The device emitted a terrible crackling sounds as the tendrils of electricity seemed to reach out longingly for Judy. She recoiled again, horrified that her parents would include such an item. She snatched the bag from her father before he could replace it.

"Ok, ok, thank you, thank you. This is really great," she said, placatingly. She rebuffed her father's every attempt to drop the taser into the bag. "Dad, I really don't think I will need that."

"But Judy, you never know when you will need it!"

"I think, Stu, that our daughter will be just fine. Good luck Judy. Don't forget to call!"

"I won't Mom." She hugged them both. "I love you."

"We love you too," her parents said in unison.

The train pulled up then, and Judy rushed to load her belongings, what little she had, aboard the massive passenger car.

"Wait, Judy!" a voice range out from the crowd of rabbits on the landing.

Judy turned towards the sound, already knowing exactly who it was. Martha was pushing her way to the front of the crowd of rabbits that had gathered, looking quite disheveled. She had been sulking over the the last week or so before Judy's departure, unhappy that she would be leaving. Judy wished Martha could express her unhappiness in a way that didn't only make the source of it worse, but teenagers are teenagers.

"Martha," Judy said as she opened her arms wide. Martha ran into her embrace, burying her face in Judy's chest.

"I don't want you to go," she said, the sound muffled.

"I know Martha," Judy cooed, "you know I have to, though." Martha nodded, still not looking at her sister. "You can always come visit, or maybe even move to Zootopia when you are old enough." Martha, like Judy, had always been rather fascinated by the City, though she didn't have quite the same

Martha looked up, wide eyed, "You think?" And she looked back towards her parents.

"We'll talk about it," her mother said.

Martha looked back at Judy, a grin spread ear to ear across her face. "I can't wait."

* * *

 **Well that's it for now, I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **I realized that I am really terrible at giving credit where it is due. Nick's short little letter is the final line of the Robert Frost poem The Road Not Taken.**

 **Next chapter will be out in two weeks.**

 **Live well!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello everyone!**

 **I have brought you the next chapter of Saving Wilde! I am sorry for the wait, but I appreciate all of you being so patient.**

 **Thank you to all those who have reviewed, favorited, and followed my story so far. I really appreciate the feedback I have received. I try to respond to all the comments so if you happen to have anything to say, please don't hesitate!**

 **I don't own any Disney characters, and my OCs aren't worth stealing.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"Here's your coffee."

"Thanks Finnick," Nick replied as he leaned back on the bench seat. The two of them were waiting in the Muskova Central Station, a massive train terminal near the center of the city, for a train that would take them to southern Arctica, near the nascent People's Republic of Ossetia.

"Can you believe they are making us do this?" Finnick asked.

Nick chuckled darkly. "No, it's not that surprising," he said. Sarcasm veritably dripped from his voice. "Remember Finnick, we are but small cogs in this _great machine_ , and if it wants to waste us, then that's exactly what it will do."

"I just can't believe they think it's good idea to send us. If they aren't gonna make Stevens do his job, then what the hell is he doing here?" Stevens was the ambassador to Arctica, but there was no way in hell he would ever step foot in Ossetia.

"You know that sending him would only cause problems," Nick replied.

"Yeah, well, it would give him something to do other than sending me messages all the time. Isn't there someone else we can send?"

"No," Nick replied matter of factly. And in truth there wasn't, not really. The Committee on Foreign Relations back home wanted them to start building relationships in Ossetia. The war with Arctica had been raging for three months, and the siege of Gromney more than two. The Arcticians had bogged down in Gromney, their every move in the city countered by the Ossetian separatist forces. In the first month they had captured barely 35% of the city, and suffered well in excess of 5,500 casualties to do it.

The war had turned into a mess for which the Arctician citizenry had little stomach, and already, just three months after the conflict had begun, voices of the dissent for the war were beginning to emerge. The time honored strategy of revolutions throughout history was beginning to pay dividends. The Ossetians never needed to _defeat_ Arctician forces. That would have been ideal of course, but totally unrealistic. They didn't have the soldiers, equipment, or training to do that. But they didn't need to defeat the 64th Army in detail to win the war. All they needed to do was _not lose._

It was a formula that had played out hundreds of times all over the world. The massive, modern juggernaut brought low by ragtag freedom fighters, or terrorists, depending on your political orientation. The Arcticians could win the war, if they had the _will._ And that was the thing. Will.

The Ossetians certainly had it. They had already taken far beyond 15,000 military casualties in this little war, and showed no signs of slowing down. But then, to them, the invasion was an existential threat. If they lost they would have nothing left afterwards, not even their lives in many cases. And so they would fight.

But the same could not be said of Arcticia. Letting go of Ossetia would set a bad precedent, and would probably be bad for the nation the the long term, but what did the average Arctician care about such things? The daily trials of simply living were far more important to them than some far off war with mammals who apparently wanted nothing more than to run their own government.

So the Ossetians were making the resolution of the conflict as painful as possible. _5,500_ _casualties_. Including about 1,700 dead. In a month. Just to take a third of a city.

Was it worth it? Was bringing Ossetia back into the fold worth that loss? Was it worth the letters sent every day to nervous parents informing them that their son would not be coming back?

 _Dear Sir or Madam,_

 _We deeply regret to inform you of the loss of your son, who died on October 17th of wounds received in combat against the enemy on October 14th._

 _His loss is keenly felt throughout our organization. I sincerely hope that the knowledge that your son was an exemplary soldier and that he died in the service of his nation will comfort you in this hour of great sorrow._

 _Sincerely yours,_

But were they really serving their nation? Or simply the interests of those in power? What exactly were they dying for, and why did it matter? Those were the questions beginning to be asked all over Arcticia.

The Ossetians were winning. Perhaps not on the battlefield, but certainly in the hearts and minds of the mammals of Arcticia, and that was what really mattered.

"This coffee is terrible."

"It's Arctician. What do you want?" Finnick replied.

"Coffee that isn't shit…" Nick grumbled back.

Finnick rolled his eyes. "When does the train get here?"

"Half hour, according to the ticket... I guess we are about to find out if their trains are running on time today."

They had a 13 hour trip ahead of them. It was a long time to travel, but the Arctician government did very little to monitor rail traffic, and Nick had always been more comfortable taking the train than other modes. Driving would have probably been faster, but the mammals of Arctica often seemed to regard driving regulations as suggestions rather than hard and fast rules. A popular colloquialism for a Stop Sign for instance was 'Stoptional'. It had made for some rather fur raising trips in his earlier stints in the country. Never seemed to bother Finnick though…

"Have you heard from Sergey?" Finnick asked.

"Yeah, I spoke to him this morning. Says he is excited to meet us."

"I'm sure."

Ossetia was winning, though any final victory was still a ways off, and still far from certain. But because of their success, others were beginning to take notice. The best time to make a friend is when they are in need. So that's what they were going to do, make friends. Mammals in need tended to remember their friends. And Sergey would be the first of them.

Sergey was to be their handler. He was a representative of the Ossetian government who apparently was responsible for meeting with foreign dignitaries. Though Nick had it on good authority that he hadn't had much to do just yet. Still, it was good to see that the Ossetians were thinking ahead.

Nick could understand Zootopia's haste to get their foot in the door with Ossetia. A little state like this would be a huge thorn in Arctica's side for a long time coming, and by being the first to demonstrate support they had already engendered lots of warm feelings. But he wasn't happy that they were sending him. Gromney was a dangerous place at the moment, for everyone. And Nick saw no reason why this meeting had to happen there. The Ossetians had insisted upon it however, apparently desperate to demonstrate their legitimacy by holding it in their capital.

"Train's here," Finnick interrupted his thoughts.

"Wow, early."

They both stood up and collected their things. It was going to be a long couple of days.

* * *

"I thought you said he would be here at 10," Finnick complained.

"That's what he said."

"Well it's almost 10:30, Nick!"

"I know, I know. What do you want me to do about it?"

"I dunno, maybe call him? Or maybe we should just get out of here and stop wasting our time."

They had been waiting at a rundown bus stop for nearly an hour. There were no lights anywhere on the street, which was probably advantageous, but the darkness was oppressive, seeming to bear down upon them from all sides. Even with their well adapted eyesight it was difficult to see, the overcast sky preventing any moonlight, whatever there was, from illuminating their surroundings.

"I'm fucking cold too," Finnick continued to grouse.

There was snow in this little town too. Rather more than had been in Muskova, despite it being so much farther south. It made for rather idyllic scenery when it could be seen. The countryside caked in white snow, dotted with the occasional home emitting warm yellow light.

"I'm cold too, Finnick, but we have to wait."

That Sergey was late wasn't surprising. New governments often displayed this sort of dysfunction, the staff still getting a feel for the expectations of the world around them. Sergey had probably left on time, but the bad roads had slowed him down. He had to sneak across the border after all. There was no using the main thoroughfares for him.

Or he could have been caught, in which case they would be waiting there for a long time. That was a distinct possibility, and it was another reason why Nick had l been so apprehensive about this trip. Not only were they about to enter a city under assault, but to get there the had to sneak through government lines. It was an incredible risk, despite whatever assurances the Ossetians offered him. Nick glanced at the clock on his phone, 10:31PM. He resolved to stay for another half hour and then find somewhere to stay for the night.

A flash of light caught his eye, and glancing down the street he noticed the headlights of a car bouncing down a road perpendicular to their own far off across a field. It was the first he had seen since the taxi that dropped them off had left.

"Maybe that's him," Nick said, motioning to the oncoming vehicle.

"Wouldn't that be a fucking miracle," Finnick replied.

"Oh yeah, one thing, don't let them know that we can speak Arctician."

"I mean, _you_ can speak it, I wouldn't call my attempts at that language 'speaking'."

Nick chuckled. "Fine, but don't let them know."

"Got it."

As it turned out, that far off car really was their miracle. Sergey finally arrived, bouncing down the snow covered road in a rusty maroon Trabant. It was an ugly little two door sedan which hadn't changed in the last 40 years, and was seemingly the only car available to many of the citizens of southern Arctica judging by how ubiquitous they seemed to be. Nick could see the grinning Sergey as he pulled up, but there was a problem, Sergey wasn't alone. Nick fingered the pistol in his pocket. There was only supposed to be one Dall Sheep, Sergey. Nick glanced at Finnick, who had clearly spotted the second sheep as well. Their eyes met for barely a moment, but the glance told each exactly what they would do.

Then, suddenly, Sergey burst from the car, exclaiming in broken Zootopian, "Welcome, friends! I happy you made here!"

"It's good to see you Sergey, we were worried you might not make it," Nick replied.

"Yes, yes, so sorry. My brother is kicked from home, I could not leave him!" he said, gesturing at the second sheep who was only now getting out of the car.

"Kicked out?" Nick asked, grinning, Sergey's good spirits infectious. "What did he do?"

Sergey moved closer to Nick and said conspiratorially, "He is a goatfucker!"

"Uh," Nick stammered, unsure of how to reply, "I'm sorry."

"No! No! His wife is goat!" And with that, Sergey burst out into a raucous, bleating laughter, his brother joining him.

Nick stood there, a little lost, his glances at Finnick confirming he was no better, but he maintained a smile, and chuckled good naturedly.

"Hah hah, heh he, hoo, you get it my friend?" Sergey finally asked after he had begun to calm down.

"I'm afraid I don't Sergey."

"Bah, no problem, no problem. Oh! You speak Arctician?"

"Uh," Nick replied ashamedly, "I'm afraid I don't, Sergey, I hope that's alright."

"No problem!" Sergey replied, quite a bit louder than before, "I speak, and so does my brother, right Vadim?" Vadim simply nodded. "Ah I forgot, Vadim, this is Robert and his friend Ethan."

"Good to meet you," Vadim croaked out, clearly uncomfortable with Zootopian. Both Nick and Finnick returned the greeting.

"Now," Sergey said, clapping his hooves together, "we must go, we have long trip."

And with that, they all squeezed into the little Trabant, and lumbered off down the road.

It was a long drive, and cold. The little Trabant's heater was apparently broken. Vadim would occasionally fiddle with the controls and bang his hoof on the the dashboard, cursing. Nick and Finnick sat in the back in silence, neither feeling much for conversation and their new escorts offering none either. The two sheep did speak amongst one another in Arctician however, totally oblivious to the fact that their two passengers could understand every word.

"Pizdec! When will you the fix fucking heater, Sergey? It was broken last winter too, blyad."

"When I have some free time, and money. The duct is rusty, it needs a new one. The hot air leaks out now."

"I know that, Sergey, I told you what the problem was!"

"Yeah, yeah…"

It went on like that for some time, the two of them simply chatting about trivialities. Apparently unconcerned that they were excluding their guests. At one point, after about 45 minutes while they were making their way down a narrow, snow covered country road Sergey turned to them and said in Zootopian, "Friends, we cross border now. Impressive, da?"

Nick looked out the window, but saw little more than the trees that seemed to grow right at the edge of the road. It was strange, was no guard. Sergey had never even bothered to turn off his headlights. "There is no one here," Nick said questioningly.

"No, no, Arctica don't care. No one stay here."

Nick wondered at that. How it was that a stretch of the border could be left open. The reports had been getting from this area was that it was sealed, though not so tightly no one could slip through. But this hadn't even been hard.

"Don't they guard it?" Nick asked.

"Mmm, in daytime. Soldiers go home for night."

Nick glanced at Finnick, who had cocked an eye. The soldiers guarding the border in the area were certainly local and certainly green, but there was no way they simply melted away as night approached, retreating back to their families.

"Do they go to a base?" Finnick asked.

"Mmm, what is 'base'?" Sergey seemed to ask the whole car. Vadim explained it to him in Arctician and Sergey exclaimed, "Ah! No, no, they go to home."

Nick decided not to respond to that, still rather surprised at what he had just heard, and the two sheep went back to conversing in Arctician.

"They ask lots of questions," Vadim said.

"They are foxes, it is in their nature."

"Hah! Nosy bastards."

"Now Vadim, they are here to help. We mustn't think badly of them."

"Bah! They can't understand us anyway. I am not surprised Zootopia would send us two foxes who can't speak Arctician. Self important arses. And they are _foxes_ too! Why would they send two foxes?"

"I don't know Vadim," Sergey said. "Probably because they are sly." Nick glanced at Finnick again, who didn't seem to be listening.

"Sly foxes? That doesn't help us. We need someone smart. Like an elephant."

"How would we fit an elephant in this car?!"

"I don't know! Still, I don't like foxes. Too sly for their own good."

"We need them to be sly, we need money and guns and Muskova can't know. Who better than to send a fox to figure it out?" Nick had heard this all before. Playing out exactly as it was before him. The prejudice against foxes wasn't universal, but sometimes it felt it was nearly so. But while that meant that most mammals didn't trust him in general, when it came to things like his current profession, it meant that mammals tended to give his opinion just a little extra deference, and that was useful. Still, he didn't like hearing it, talked about like some distasteful yet necessary tool. So he asked the question that had been on his mind for the last half hour.

"Hey, Sergey, where are we going?" They had been heading East by Southeast, but if they were going to Gromney they should have been going Northwest, or at least, they should have been by then.

"To my home," Sergey replied. "We go to Gromney in morning."

That annoyed Nick, though he was thankful he wouldn't be spending the night in that hellhole, the new arrangement however wasn't what had been agreed upon. He felt no malicious intent emanating from Sergey. There didn't seem to be some sort of deadly trap waiting for them at the end of this road trip, what sort of purpose would that have served anyway? But their agreement was broken, unilaterally too, and it was an insight into just how the Ossetians did their business. He was not impressed.

"Alright Sergey, how much longer then?"

Sergey shrugged, and replied without looking back, "Mmm, five…" and looked at Vadim and asked him in Arctician, "How do you say 'fifteen'?"

"Uhhh, I don't know," Vadim shrugged, "'one five' I guess?"

"That doesn't seem right... "

"Well, what do you want from me then?" Vadim shot back.

"Uh, one five minute," Sergey finally continued in Zootopian, glancing over his shoulder at Nick.

"Thanks," Nick replied, satisfied that they would soon be out of the car.

"I say right?" Sergey asked, making expectant glances back at Nick.

"What?" Nick replied.

"'One five minute'!" Sergey pressed.

"Oh, no, no, its 'fifteen minutes'. That's how you you say it."

"Ah, thank you my friend!"

Nick glanced at Finnick, trying to gauge his mood. It had been darkening perceptibly this last half hour and Nick was curious how this latest blow would would land. But Finnick made no motion to acknowledge his glances, he simply sat staring out the window, his paws firmly placed in the pockets of his coat. Right where his kept his pistol. That was all Nick needed to know.

Sergey's house was at the end of a long, poorly plowed, dirt road. It was a quaint little cottage, the roof covered in a thick layer of snow, the only light a single orb atop a post beside the front door. There was a barn nearby, well maintained, despite its obvious age. Everything seemed old in Ossetia. The cars, the roads, the street signs, the houses, and the mammals. All of it carried the signs of a sad slow deterioration. Like the world had passed them by in its endless cycles of renewal, and everyone aged before their time.

They pulled up to the barn, and Sergey and Vadim got out of the car, Nick and Finnick following closely on their heels, both on edge. The yard was dark and quiet, only the sound of their crunching paws and the metallic clicking of the Trabant cooling down marring the stillness of the night. The short trek to the front door was uneventful though, and so was the entrance into the house. There was no trap in the little cottage, though there was one very annoyed old sheep.

"Priviet?" A voice called down from the top of the stairs in Arctician.

"It's me and Vadim, mama, and our friends," Sergey replied.

"What are you doing out so late, and in the snow?" she said as she began down the stairs.

"I told you, mama, we had to pick up our friends. They are here to help."

She surveyed the two foxes skeptically and replied, "Foxes? When have they ever helped anyone?" Again Nick glanced at Finnick, hoping to preempt any outburst. His Arctician wasn't fantastic but it wouldn't be hard to understand her meaning. Finnick had always had very little patience for that sort of bigotry, but then he could afford to. He wasn't really an operative, and had certainly never been a field agent. He had never learned to bite his tongue and bear it like Nick had. He had never had to.

"Mama! They are very important foxes from a very important country. They will help us!"

"Important?" the old sheep replied, incredulous. "They look like normal foxes to me."

"She is talking about us," Finnick suddenly interrupted. "What is she saying?"

The question took the two brothers of guard and they fumbled for a reply, but Sergey proved the quickest on his hooves and he said, "Uhhh, mother unhappy about war. Don't want war brought to home."

"Ah, I'm sorry about that," Finnick replied, displaying a surprising amount of deference.

"Is no problem," Sergey said, and then to his mother in Arctician, "Mama, we need a drink, bring us a bottle."

"Now, at this hour?" she replied incredulously. "It's past midnight! This is no time for vodka. You must be in the city by 7! There is war on for gods' sake!"

"Mama, I just drove half the night, we all need a drink! Bring glasses for our guests too!"

"Niet! I will bring you Kompot. It is fresh. I just made it after dinner. You know I don't like you to drink too much Sergey, and tomorrow you have work! Besides, the foxes don't need it either, they probably don't even like vodka."

"Of course they like vodka, everyone likes vodka!"

"Niet! Kompot!

Nick stood there at the bottom of the stairs, bemused, though doing his best not to show it. Sergey's mother fit, almost exactly, his perception of the old Arctician grandma. Overbearing, pushy, speciesist, a true kompot connoisseur. But, he reflected, in life you must take others as you find them. And as she moved towards the kitchen, grumbling, he said to Sergey, "Your mother is very nice."

"Hah hah ha," Sergey bleated out, "you're funny fox! Come, I show you where you sleep."

Where they were to stay that night turned out to be the couch in the living room. It wasn't too bad really, there were blankets, and there was a fire going. Both Nick and Finnick had slept in far worse conditions and they appreciated that at the very least they would be warm, if not perhaps singularly comfortable. They thanked Sergey for the lodgings and drank their kompot when it arrived. No one was much for talking, the hour was indeed quite late, and soon their Arctician hosts had gone off to bed, promising to wake them in the morning.

Finally, Nick and Finnick were alone again, and it didn't take Finnick long to make his feelings known, "I don't like this Nick."

"Yes, Finnick, I know. I think this is the fifth or sixth time you've told me," replied Nick, with perhaps less patience than Finnick deserved.

"No, I mean they changed the deal, I don't like this."

"Well, they are amateurs at this business."

"Yes I know, and that's why this worries me."

Nick sighed, he knew exactly how Finnick felt because he felt it too. "Finnick, I don't think they are a danger to us," he replied, trying to assuage Finnick's fears.

"I don't think they are either, what I am afraid of is the stuff they don't consider. They are _amateurs,_ they have hardly any idea how these sorts of meetings work, and they are even making us have one in a war zone. I don't think they are going to trying to kill us, I think they are going to get us killed."

Nick remained silent for a moment, considering Finnick's tone. It was cool, almost collected… it was abnormal. Nick realized then just how scared his partner was, and he was beset by an immense guilt. Bringing Finnick along on this trip wasn't strictly necessary, but he had felt he needed the help and had asked him to come. 'Ask' was really the wrong word however. It hadn't quite been an order, but it was close. Still, fieldwork was not Finnick's domain, and he never got involved in it if he could.

It annoyed Nick that he had caused such disquiet in his friend. It wasn't really fair to him to have brought him along, and so he offered him an out, "Finn, you don't have to come tomorrow, if you don't want."

"What do you mean?" he replied.

"I mean, you can stay out of the city, keep your head down for the day, and the we'll meet up on my way out."

Finnick didn't reply immediately, considering the offer, and then he said, "Are you saying you didn't need me in the first place?"

Oh shit.

"No no no no, that is not what I am saying _at all,_ " Nick countered as quickly as he could, "I am just saying I won't make you go into the city, considering the danger."

"Go to bed, Nick," Finnick replied.

"Ha ha, good I am glad," Nick grinned, "I needed someone to carry my stuff any- Ah! Damnit Finnick!" Nick exclaimed. Finnick's kick had nearly dislodged him from the couch.

"Go to bed you dumb bastard."

"Ok ok, fine, jeez," Nick replied as rolled over, thoroughly wrapping himself in a blanket, grinning all the while.

* * *

The trip into the city the next day was uneventful, though the signs of war steadily increased as they moved closer. At first it was the occasional military traffic. A convoy of beige trucks emblazoned with a hastily painted Ossetian roundel. Then it was soldiers and equipment lingering in the center of a small village. Then it was the darkening of the sky, the horizon obscured in a grey haze despite the brilliance of the day. Then it was the smell, acrid and powerful. The smell of gunpowder and high explosive and fire. And then the damage began. A shell hole adjacent to a home, its walls pockmarked by shrapnel. A grain elevator little more than a concrete shell.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the city the price of the conflict had been evident for kilometers. Refugees lined the sides of the road carrying what little of their earthly possessions they could, slowly snaking away from the conflict. Makeshift burial markers adorned hastily dug graves in what was once a suburban park.

Parts of the city seemed to have survived relatively untouched, though the smell of war and death was inescapable. Shops still sold their goods, the local markets were still full of customers buying produce, and Nick even noticed a pickup game of football being played in a side street. It was all as if there was no war at all, the mammals of Gromney going about their lives like there was nothing wrong.

There were signs though, of the trouble swirling around them. The markets might have been open, but they were nearly empty. Power was out in much of the city, and without that most other modern conveniences, especially plumbing and heat, ceased to exist as well. The haze and smoke above them a constant reminder of just how close the war was. And, despite their best efforts, the mammals couldn't hide the strain the fighting was taking on them. Many would flinch each time a shell landed somewhere in the city, and they all seemed so tired, oh so very tired. As if most of them hadn't slept well in months. There was little joy in the mammals they passed, only fatigue, sadness, and fear.

Other parts of the city were not so lucky. Whole blocks were little more than ruins and snow covered rubble and burnt out cars littered the streets. The evidence of shelling was everywhere, and even buildings that seemed to have weathered the storm were scarred and holed. Death surrounded them, though it was hard to see. A spattering of blood in a snowbank, a frozen body amongst a pile of rubble. The smell was growing stronger as as they neared the front. The apparatuses of war cramming every alley along with their attendant troops.

The occupants of the car had been silent ever since they had left the suburbs. The two foxes taking in the momentous scene around them. But finally, Sergey broke the silence, "We must leave car soon, not safe."

They approached a checkpoint, a heavy machine gun trained upon them as they approached, and a soldier, a caribou, motioned for them to stop. He looked like so many other soldiers there in Gromney, with a mismatching uniform and accoutrements that were probably older than he was. But unlike so many others, and what made him stand out to Nick, was that he was armed with a submachine gun of a make that Nick didn't recognize.

That isn't to say that Nick was a firearms expert, far from it indeed, but he was familiar with with the major models from around the world, and particularly Arctician models. But this was one was something far beyond his experience. It was a small rectangular metal bar from which protruded a small barrel and underneath hung a magazine and pistol grip. "What's that gun he is carrying?" Nick asked Sergey.

"Hmm? Uh, uh, it called Borz. Don't know word for it," he replied.

 _Wolf,_ that was what 'Borz' meant. Wolf. A fearsome name for such a strange little box.

"It homemade," Sergey continued, chuckling to himself. "Good little gun."

Ah, Nick had heard that the Ossetians had begun manufacturing arms, but it was interesting to see their handiwork up close. He hoped their improvised weapons would serve them well, but he questioned their effectiveness almost on reflex.

The soldier with the Borz motioned for them to pull over and he and another began inspecting the car while an officer emerged from a nearby building and ordered them from the car to check their papers. It was a quick little stop, the officer quickly realizing who they were, and they were ushered through an alley into a waiting armored car and were soon on their way.

They were going to the Presidential Palace, Sergey told them. A large office building constructed in Brutalist style that at one point had been the regional parliament building. It was rather close to the front lines these days however, and had even suffered some minor damage in the shelling. It had become of symbol though, of resilient defiance, and some of the functions of government were still conducted there, including meetings with foreign dignitaries apparently.

They were lucky however, their trip to the palace was as uneventful as their trip into the city. They had timed things well. Fighting had been sporadic over the past few days, coming in fits and starts. But there had been no concerted coordinated action from either side. The shelling hadn't stopped, but it too amounted to little more than harassment, four or five rounds landing at a time before the bombardment ceased and picked up again somewhere else.

It was still a dangerous thing to be there however. The building was just as much a symbol to the Arcticians as it was to the Ossetians, and more than one attack had probed the approaches to the palace. It was with continual amazement that Nick considered the place of their meeting and its existence. If it were he commanding the 64th Army, he would have bombed the place to rubble long ago. But then he wasn't a general, and there was probably something more to it he didn't understand.

The armored car ground to a halt beside the main entrance of the palace where there were met by a guard of two soldiers and ushered inside. They were not greeted by anyone, and indeed the building seemed mostly deserted, nor were they searched, much to Nick's amazement, but they were instead lead through the entrance hall to a service staircase and descended into the bowels of the earth. The little jaunt was short, and the mood subdued. The guards refused any attempt at conversation, and Sergey seemed nervous, as if he was afraid he was about to be reprimanded. He refused all conversation too, and Nick was left wondering just what they were getting themselves into. He didn't get the feeling that either he nor Finnick were in danger, they were both treated with customary respect as they were lead deeper into the sublevels of the Palace, but it felt as though they were being lead into a place of immense significance. Like inner sanctum of a temple to Frith.

They were not lead deep underground, they only descended three flights before they came to the bottom which opened into what looked like a typical, if antiquated, office space. They followed the guards to the other end of the room and were shown into a small meeting room lined with the flags of a number of nations from around the world, the flag of Zootopia displayed most prominently amongst them. Like the rest of the building, the meeting room was decorated in the same tacky wood paneling that was so popular 30 years ago, but which left Nick wondering what sort of collective delusion inflicted upon his parent's generation such poor taste. They seated themselves, facing the door, around the table which dominated the center of the room and waited. And waited.

There was a knock, the door opened, and three armed mammals entered the room. Close behind them followed the four most important mammals in the entire Republic of Ossetia.

"Welcome to Gromney," said the bear at the head of the little column in perfect Zootopian, offering his paw. "It is good of you to come."

Greetings were exchanged, the bear was Daniil Kuznetsov, the president of Ossetia, or what was left it. Nick sized him up as the greetings went around the room. He was an imposing mammal, and it was not simply his size. The very way he moved radiated authority and control, and indeed, as Nick shook his paw he got the distinct impression that Daniil was struggling, with only partial success, to resist the urge to crush Nick's paw. He dominated the rest of exchange too, his three companions unable to even speak their own introductions before Daniil did it for them.

It was an illuminating exchange, and Nick was quickly coming to understand how this bear, who before the rebellion had been a minor member of the provincial parliament, had suddenly come to run the new country. His very bearing commanded respect and deference, and Nick found himself being overly accommodating in just the first few moments of their exchange. The effect was fleeting however as the moment Nick realized what he was doing he mentally steeled himself against it.

It was at that moment when Nick realized just how dangerous the bear really was. He knew his change in attitude was almost imperceptible, so practiced he was at wearing different masks that it would take someone intimately familiar with him to discern the difference. But, nearly the moment after he made the correction, he caught Daniil shoot him a bemused look that made the fur on his tail bristle. Daniil had, very quickly, proven himself to be a mammal not to be crossed, and Nick made a mental note to do his best to do just that.

Despite the seemingly singular presence of the Daniil commanded in that little conference room, the other three mammals who had seated themselves at the table were undeniably movers and shakers in their own rights. Seated at Daniil's right was Yegor Popov, a Dall Sheep like Sergey and the Mammal's Secretary of the Parliament. He too had been a member of the provincial parliament before its fall, interestingly enough as a member of the party in opposition to Daniil's. It said much about the two that they seemed to have successfully put aside their political differences to orchestrate a coup. But Nick wondered just how willing he was to live in Daniil's shadow, since, while the Mammal's Secretary was ostensibly a powerful position in the new government nearly comparable with the Presidency, the word was that in practice Mr. Popov occupied a position that was very much secondary to Kuznetsov's.

Next to Popov sat the wolf, Konstantin Rokossovsky, the commanding general of the Ossetian First, and only, Army. Truly, it was an army in name alone as Rokossovsky hardly had the forces to fill out the order of battle of a proper Army. But it was undeniable that he had wielded his little instrument of war with terrible effectiveness.

Konstantin was a retired Army officer who at the height of his career had commanded the Second Guards Motorized Rifle Division. It was a prestigious command, and the division was often featured in the annual military parades held in Muskova. But advancement in the Army was tied just as closely to just who you knew as it was to how competent you were, and Rokossovsky's humble upbringing in a small village outside Gromney ensured his perpetual status as an outsider, and when a change in government caused his stock to fall, he was denied promotion to even more illustrious positions. He had retired, back to his little village, a bitter and resentful wolf. Hating the mammals who had kept him forever stuck at the head of a division. And thus, when the call came down from the Ossetians to lead their nascent army, he answered, pleased at the opportunity to finally prove his worth to the world and spit in the eye of those who failed to see it.

The last member of this small delegation was Marat Alexeev, the personal secretary to Daniil, and perhaps the one mammal in the group who had genuinely piqued Nick's interest. They had apparently been close friends for years, and while Nick wasn't sure what exactly qualified him to be the secretary to a president, there was no getting around the fact that Daniil deeply respected the Arctica Rabbit's advice. And that last was what made Marat stand out. He was a rabbit who had somehow ended up in the highest circles of the new Ossetian government. It was a role Nick would have never before expected for someone of his kind, but there before him was evidence of just what was possible. Perhaps it was the difference of species? No, no, that was not it, Arctica Rabbits also tended to be farmers and lived, perhaps, even more cloistered lives than the rabbits of Zootopia. But then, perhaps the only reason he was interested in Marat at all was because he reminded Nick of another rabbit, who was just as determined to make something more of herself and stand out.

He wondered if Marat would contribute much of anything to the meeting, if he was just some sort of 'yes' mammal, or perhaps even Daniil's lover. It would explain his presence, even if the idea of a rabbit and bear together was totally insane. It wouldn't be the first time an eccentric dictator involved their lovers in the affairs of state. Nevertheless, it amazed him that the rabbit was there at all and he knew that he would have the keep an eye on him.

They traded trivialities, small talk, neither side jumping right into the topics at had, the reasons for their meeting. It pleased Nick, gave him a moment to test the air, taste the mood. It was just what he needed, and the more they chatted the more the nervousness drained out of him. That he was in the center of a besieged city less than a kilometer from the front no longer seemed to matter, he slowly became more and more focused, tapped into the ebb and flow of their meeting.

There was an impatience growing in the small space though, an increasing frustration from a few of the occupants, Marat in particular seemed increasingly interested in getting things going, and began trying to steer the conversation to the war. Daniil missed the hints though, or perhaps ignored them, content as he was to let the conversation continue organically, flowing from one topic to the next. It suited Nick too, because the longer it went the more he found himself in control of its path. He didn't dominate the conversation, that would have been a mistake after all, in Arctica it was expected that the host maintained control of such things, but he realized that Daniil was no great conversationalist, and welcomed suggestions.

It amused Nick, to see the annoyance on Marat's face. He was toying with him in a way, allowing the conversation to steer momentarily towards its true purpose and then veering away onto some inanity. Watching him closely each time and reveling in his obvious frustration.

It was the fourth or fifth time he had done this though that the cruelty of it struck him. He didn't understand why Marat had suddenly become the target of his vindictiveness. It was silly really, what he was doing, and he had no doubt Daniil would react poorly if he realized the game Nick was playing.

It was because Marat was a rabbit, the realization suddenly exploded into his mind. He didn't like that the rabbit was there. Was not impressed by his contribution so far, and the longer he spent in the room with him the less he wanted him there.

But why? The question puzzled him. There was nothing offensive about Marat, and even his continual attempts to get their meeting back on course were neither rude nor unwarranted, and in between he had been nothing but cordial. There was something about him that Nick found grating. Something in his mannerisms, and his tone, and in the way he shared knowing glances with Daniil. It was as if it were _he_ that was toying with Nick. As if he knew something fundamental which Nick simply wasn't privy to, and his each glance towards Nick only increased his mirth. That damn rabbit was dangerous, but he couldn't place why. That damn rabbit…

That damn _rabbit_.

Sudden clarity. He understood then the source of his rancor. Marat was like him. A mammal who had, despite the societal expectations for his species, managed to become someone of importance and power. Nick had been comparing himself to the rabbit, measuring his achievements against his own. The worst of it was that Nick found himself wanting. He had known who he would be meeting, he had done his research, he knew just what Marat had apparently accomplished in life. A Juris Doctorate, a successful partner in a law firm, he had no governmental experience, but he had all the formal training for it Nick lacked.

And that was why Nick felt threatened, he thought. Nick had never noticed before how much his status as a successful example of one of _those_ _mammals_ meant to him. And now that there was another, he felt self conscious and inadequate. He was saved then, from his own insecurity, when Daniil, who had been privately conferring with General Rokossovsky, finally allowed the negotiations to begin.

"Robert, my friend," Daniil said, using the name Nick had chosen for this particular operation, "Konstantin told me you won't give us any weapons. Is that true?"

Ah, this had been a point of contention between the ZIA and their contacts in Ossetia. There was no way Zootopian weapons would ever be sent to Ossetia while the war was still ongoing. There was no support for it in the government and the idea hadn't even been floated to the public via anything more than Sunday morning pundits. And even more importantly, it would violate some of the very foundations of the international order. "General Rokossovsky is correct Mr. President. We won't send you weapons."

"Why is this?" Daniil asked, his face darkening.

"Well," he replied, searching for a way to explain and move away from this dangerous ground, "because, it would mean war between Zootopia and Arcticia, and we aren't willing to risk that. Can you imagine if the rolls were reversed nd Arcticia sent weapons to a separatist movement in Zootopia? It is unfortunate, but we have to respect their sovereignty."

"Respecting their sovereignty?" Marat chuckled. "You are violating it simply by being here, are you not? Doesn't not your work in general do just that?"

Nick bristled at the question, annoyed at the tone with which it was asked, and alarmed at what Marat seemed to be implying. He knew _something_ , Nick could tell, something he shouldn't. But the rabbit wasn't wrong, that was exactly what he was doing. Just about everything he did while he was in Arctica was technically illegal. But it was tolerated, everyone needed and used spies, and there was no problem, as long as they weren't caught. "Yes, but this is a meeting that is easy to hide. Weapons and ammunition are not. Please understand, we wholeheartedly support your cause, but that is a line we will not cross."

The Ossetians didn't take that well, and proceeded to carry on a long discussion in Arctician about what they should do. Nick listened in, but didn't learn much beyond that the rabbit wished for them to be sent away. Lamenting that the two foxes were wasting their time. Oh, if that fucking rabbit only knew just how much Nick agreed.

"What about recognition?" Daniil finally said.

"Recognition?" Nick replied, shooting a confused glance at Finnick.

"Yes," Daniil said, "I mean Diplomatic Recognition, in front of the Congress of Nations."

Nick didn't respond immediately, so taken aback was he that they would even request something like that. Diplomatic recognition was impossible at the moment, and probably for the foreseeable future. But he recovered quickly, and said in his most conciliatory tone, "I can't commit to that. My government had been clear to me that it won't happen for now." Just like with the weapons, to allow that would be to violate hundreds of years of precedent, law, and unspoken agreements. Major powers simply did not get involved in the internal affairs of other major powers, at least not to such an extent. To do so would simply open one to reciprocal treatment in the future. Every nation, big and small, had independence movements, it was simply a fact of existence for a nation state, and none of the them wanted to allow their own movement to be legitimized.

Daniil's eyes flashed in anger. "So you won't give us weapons nor will you give us recognition, then why have you come?" he said forcefully, slamming his paw against the table.

The anger didn't phase Nick, confident as he was that he did indeed have something of value to the Ossetians, and also well aware of just how unreasonable their requests were. He wondered if that was sign of just how new they were to all of this, or if there was some other motive. There was no hint of the truth there though, he couldn't tell either way. But he had to diffuse the situation, the negotiation had not gone well so far. "Mr. President, I want to reiterate my government's support for your cause, and know that if you win this war that many new avenues will be opened to you. And some can be opened to you immediately." Finnick handed him a folder and Nick paged through its contents dramatically. "We can't give you weapons, but we have more intelligence reports and–"

"Is that what you came here for? To sell us more information? Is your contact at the Office of Intelligence not good enough for you?"

"Of course not, of course not," and he slid some documents towards the Ossetian president, "Zootopia has an offer for you."

Inside the the folder was the outline of a plan that would allow Zootopia to give Ossetia a loan. It was not a simple task, these sorts of transactions were closely monitored by every nation, but it was possible. It would require layer upon layer of shell company and and private party transactions. The money would be shuffled, split up, put back together, change dozens and dozens of paws before it would ever even approach the borders of Ossetia. It would be a money laundering operation conducted on a global scale. But it would get the Ossetians the money they were so desperate for.

It would not come cheaply to the Ossetians though. If they were to agree with such a plan the money would not come free. This was a major risk for Zootopia and if the Ossetians took the deal and won the war, they would become a client state in all but name. It would not be an easy existence, and Nick would entirely understand if they refused, though he was prepared to do some convincing. The money was just too good though, 15 Billion Bucks, with provisions for more in the future. They would be able to fund their little war and afterwards they would have money to pick up the pieces.

The Ossetians took quite some time to consider the agreement that had been laid before them, and Nick enjoyed listening to them going back in forth in Arctican fully believing that neither of Nick nor Finnick could understand a word, before finally returning to Zootopian and engaging with him. In the end they agreed, they would take the deal, though Nick knew that their agreement was only half hearted, Popov and Marat voicing particularly strong opposition to some of the provisions. Nick ameliorated their fears as best he could, giving them other examples of how well this sort of deal had worked out for numerous other small states. Zootopia was benevolent and a friend, the offending provisions were only included to cover its bases, there would be no meddling in Ossetian foreign or domestic affairs as long as the Ossetians threatened no Zootopian interests.

It was a lie though, that Zootopia would be hands off when it came to Ossetia, but they didn't need to know that. They just needed to sign the papers. And they did just that.

"It has been a pleasure," Daniil said after he put down his pen, offering his paw, "we must do this again."

"Hah, hopefully the circumstances next time around will be a little more auspicious," Nick replied graciously.

"Yes of course they will, especially with your help. I see a long future between our two nations."

"Indeed, indeed. We also have more intelligence reports for you, we thought we would deliver them by hand this time see as we would be here anyway." He handed a USB stick to Rokossovsky.

Daniil smiled at that, "Thank you very much. Ah! Would be interested in a tour of our forces in the city? I am sure Konstantin would like nothing more than to demonstrate how well we have put to use your information."

"We would like that very much Mr. President."

"Please, call me Daniil."

* * *

 **So that is all for now my friends! I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

 **I do have a question for anyone who would like to answer: Did you find the transitions between when the characters were speaking Arctician and Zootopian clear? Could you tell? I am trying to figure out if the manner I selected is the best or if there are better ways.**

 **Again I want to thank all of you for reading my story, I am so glad that so many of you are enjoying it.**

 **See you all in two weeks!**

 **Live well!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello everyone! Chapter 13 is now available!**

 **Thanks for all the feedback on the last chapter, it was very helpful!**

 **All feedback and comments are welcome.**

 **I don't own any Disney Characters**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

It was early, and cold, the morning mist floating about the field in a dull grey blanket. It was peaceful, almost, and if not for her anxiety Judy might have even been able to appreciate it.

She had come to this place, early in the morning long before the sun arose, indeed on her only day off, to do one thing: conquer the jungle obstacle course. She had failed it, time and again over the past week, each failure punctuated by the instructor's gleeful, "You're dead, Hopps!"

It had been a constant refrain, every time she took to one of the numerous training courses that filled the grounds of the Academy. You're dead. It had been almost funny at first, a joke between her and the instructor, a particularly ornery Arctica Bear, but, after falling from the ice wall for the umpteenth time, she had laughed after hearing the call. Before she knew what was happening she had been unceremoniously wrenched from the ice cold water and screamed at for 10 minutes. The instructor making it crystal clear just how funny she thought it was.

Judy had taken it more seriously after that, perhaps finally realizing that the instructor was decidedly not on her side. But that only seemed to make things worse, the chorus of "you're dead" now only making her more self conscious about her apparent inability to keep up with the larger trainees. The equipment had certainly been designed for them after all, but she wasn't about to argue it. In fact, since her dressing down a few weeks before she had done her best to be almost invisible. She would still fail the obstacle courses, but now when she did she was sure not to make any sort of fuss about it. Her displays of frustration only seemed to make everyone around her wish to push her buttons more. It was a little like her own family in that, though for some reason the pokes and prods of near strangers seemed to hurt far worse.

And most all of them _were_ strangers. Despite living and working in close proximity to the nearly 30 other mammals in her cadet class, she had hardly gotten to know any of them. And that was almost more frustrating than her inability to cross the monkey bars.

She was trying to make friends, get to know some of her future coworkers, but she had been mostly met with indifference. Everyone was friendly, more or less, but as she had found out from the only cadet who seemed to enjoy her company, a leopard named Opher, that the rest of the class regarded her days amongst them as numbered. Others had already left, two in fact. One due to an unfortunate injury, and the other for reasons unknown, though Judy suspected that they had been cheating in class.

The obvious lack of faith in her had at first brought her zeal to almost frightening heights, but it had only gotten her so far. She had never had trouble in class, far from it she consistently received the best scores. Thanks in no small part to Nick's generous gift she had to admit. But while her physical abilities had improved, they were still not enough, she was a terrible climber in all its forms.

It had been her routine for the last month, to spend her Sunday morning running through the courses, trying to eke out even just a modicum of improvement. It was a silly thing to be held back by, an obstacle course. They all looked to simple from the window in her barracks, and yet it was they who would determine if she would achieve her dream.

She crouched down, preparing to jump up for the first bar, still dripping with the morning dew, and she leapt. The bar was cold, and large, there in her paws, and slippery too, but she grasped it tightly, determination filling her body. She began to swing, slowly at first, but she picked up speed and let go, reaching desperately for the next bar. Her paws found it, and she swayed there for a moment, allowing her momentum to pass as she rocked back and forth, and then she repeated the process.

"That's a really terrible way to cross that one."

Judy nearly jumped out of her fur and barely held onto the bar, so focused had she been at the crossing that she had failed the notice Opher standing there watching her. "Opher, now is really not the time," she groused at him, in no mood to have her technique criticized.

"I'm just saying. That's a pretty easy one."

"Oh, that means a lot coming from a _cat,"_ Judy replied. Rolling her eyes as she hung from one of the bars.

" _Leopard,_ thank you very much. All I am saying Judy is that you would have an easier time of this if you tried it a different way."

"Thank you, Opher, but I am doing just fine."

"Mm, I can _see_ that."

Judy shook her head. This was really not what she needed at the moment. A spectator, and indeed one who wouldn't shut up. She waited a moment, expecting him to wander off, but he simply stood there, looking at her expectantly. She let out an exasperated sigh, but resigned herself to his voyeurism. After a moment longer, she began her laborious journey across the monkey bars again. Swing, swing, leap. Swing, swing, leap. It didn't take her long to tire, her paws aching at every pause. This had always been her problem, she would get too tired to continue long before she could finish the obstacle. The bars made her paws ache and and her arms scream. But she wouldn't stop, could not stop. She would not let the monkey bars defeat her. Swing, swing, leap. And then it happened, she timed her release poorly, letting go too early and she sailed past the next bar, the cold metal just brushing her fingertips, and she fell.

It felt like ages, her descent to earth, though it lasted only about one second. But as she fell, she watched her dream plummet away from her just as the bars did. She couldn't do it. She could do a lot of things, pass a test, run, and jump, but she couldn't climb, shoot, or fight. The walls too tall, the guns too large, and her opponents too massive. There was just no way around those things. Size did matter. They didn't just make _smaller_ guns, and how would she make it against real criminals if she couldn't manage against large mammals in a comparatively safe and controlled environment? And how would she get _anywhere_ in the city if she couldn't climb?

Maybe her days _were_ numbered.

 _No,_ her mind screamed, _they're not. Never give in._

She hit the water, hard, the wind knocked from her, was enveloped, and down she sank.

Anger, frustration, cold. Those were the things felt as she lay at the bottom of the shallow pool, the world around her somehow perfectly clear despite the murky water.

She raged.

She raged against everything. The Academy, her family, Nick. Raged at everything that had brought her to that moment. That single crushing moment when she found herself coming to terms with the fact that she might have to drop from the Academy. And it was not because of injury, or a lack of intelligence, oh no, it was because she couldn't handle the monkey bars. She would have to live with that. Spend the rest of her life knowing that she was defeated by a kit's play thing.

It was crushing, that revelation. The very idea repulsive in the extreme. And she flew from it like it were about to kill her. And perhaps it was, she still hadn't come up for air, though she didn't feel as though she had to.

She calmed, feeling the familiarity of this cycle, the anger and frustration subsiding, replaced by other things far less unpleasant, as it always was. She would not quit, and the training courses would not defeat her. If they did she could never face anyone ever again, might as well disappear with her shame. And there was one mammal at the very least that she had to see again. Even if it was only to hit him in the nose. That lying fox.

She heard splashes approaching rapidly, muffled by the murky water, and it suddenly hit her just how desperate she was for air. She started, her body screaming at her, and she nearly jumped from the water, gulping down great quantities of air.

"Oh my gods, Judy! Are you alright?" Opher had practically yelled it at her, though he was a mere two meters away, standing knee deep in the water.

"Yeah… yeah, sorry, I'm fine," she replied still thinking of her trouble with Nick.

"Jeez, don't do that to me," he said, clutching the place over his heart, "you almost gave me a heart attack when you didn't come up." He moved closer, patting her back. "You're crazy you know? You're killing yourself over this stuff."

"Well what else am I supposed to do? I am not going to quit, I can't." She said the words but in that moment she didn't really feel them.

"You could ask for help. I am pretty good at some of this stuff after all."

She looked away from him, a little embarrassed. She hadn't really asked anyone for help, thinking that doing so would confirm what everyone was already thinking. Besides, she had never needed help for anything before so why would she need it now? Well, no, that wasn't true, there was Nick, who had helped her a lot, and her parents too, she would have never gone to college if it weren't for them. And plenty of others too, a lot of mammals who had helped her on her way. But those things were different, right?

"Look, I'll show you how to do this one, it's really easy when you get the hang of it," Opher continued. He led her out of the pool and back to the start of the monkey bars, and then crossed them effortlessly. He turned back to her and spread his arms wide.

No it wasn't really all that different.

"I tried it like that though, and it didn't work," Judy groused, "the bars are too far apart."

"Yeah you gotta keep your momentum up. Once you stop it's really hard to get going again."

She looked across the pool at the start of the bars, the apprehension clear on her face. And then, a thought creeped into her mind. Why did he care? He gained nothing from helping her, at least as far as she knew. And she stood there before the start just as the sun was beginning to peak above the horizon, trying to imagine the source of his motivation. But she came up with nothing, and scolded herself for thinking so little of him that he would try to take advantage of her.

When had she become like that? She couldn't quite place it, that the attitude had certainly been magnified by her frustrations with the Academy. No, she realized, she could place the beginnings of it. Nick. Or, perhaps, her realization that he may not have been telling to whole truth, or perhaps any truth at all. It made her so angry, and it was so painful, that realization. Still, he had done so much for her, she wasn't willing to give up on him, not just yet. She would give him one more chance, perhaps. If he showed up at her graduation, she would find out the truth. And if he didn't, well, then she would know the truth too.

"Judy?"

"Yeah?" she replied back, though not really paying Opher any attention.

"Are you going to go?" he asked, offering her the towel she had brought along.

"Uh yeah," she replied, a sudden shiver wracking her body. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," she continued, finally back in the present.

"You ok there?"

"Yeah I'm fine," she said, wading out of the shallow pool, "just frustrated is all"

"Well, give it another shot, I think it will go better this time."

"Oh yeah?" She replied, chuckling. "We will see."

* * *

The riot gun was growing heavy in her paws. Large too, and unwieldy, designed for a mammal much larger than her. She was lucky in that the 40mm launcher had a fully telescoping wire stock. It allowed her to properly operate the launcher, seating it tightly against her shoulder. It did not make for comfortability however, the growing bruise on her shoulder evidence of that, the wires of the stock seeming to dig in deeper and deeper with every pull of the trigger.

She had been at it for more than an hour. Launching round after round of practice teargas canisters down range. She was coming to enjoy it. The way the muzzle flashed brightly as the black powder charge hurled the canister on its way. The way it smelled, of sulfur, burnt earth, and metal. And in particular she enjoyed just how accurate she was becoming with the big launcher. It had taken her some time, but just that morning she found herself capable of consistently putting the practice round through a window at 70 meters. No mean feat indeed as 70 meters was nearly the launcher's max effective range.

 _Thunk_

She sent another round down range, watching the smoking canister arc away from her. There was a loud crack as it rebounded off the wooden structure she was aiming for. She had missed the window, but it didn't bother her, it was first she had missed in the last ten rounds and she chalked it up to fatigue. She was lucky in that her launcher was actually designed to be used as a pistol by larger mammals, so it was light, light enough for her to weld for an extended period of time, but not forever. And she felt that she was rapidly approaching the point where she would longer be able to use her weapon effectively. Her arms were heavy, her shoulder sore, her aim unsteady. She would fire one more she decided, and she reloaded her launcher and took aim.

 _Thunk_

The sound rang out, deep and throaty. The round arced away, and flew right through the window.

"Good shot, Hopps," said the Range Master, a deer whose antlers had just shed. She smiled and nodded, lowering her weapon. "You've gotten much better."

"Hey, Judy!" came a call from entrance gate. "You're gonna be late." It was Opher, and he was motioning frantically for her to follow. She glanced at her watch, nearly jumped out of her fur, and rushed off after Opher, calling back at the Range Master that she would be back later to clean up.

They had crowd control training. A time when the cadets in her class would don helmets and armor, and shields and clubs, and be charged by screaming cadets from other classes, or run through walls of fire. It was exciting, and terrifying, and dangerous.

They had placed her, at first, in the shield wall, wedged between her far larger compatriots. It had been farcical. She had represented a massive gap in the line. The two cadets on either side would press together and either push her out in front of the line, leaving her extremely vulnerable, or she would be pushed back in between the ranks, where she could do nothing at all.

Her plight hadn't lasted long however, her instructors recognizing how silly it was even faster than the rest of the cadets did. They had moved her to the back, to the file closers, the rank of widely spaced officers responsible for keeping the lines dressed and closing any gaps, moving the downed officers out of the way so that another could take their place. It was a position of considerable responsibility, and was usually taken by veteran officers who had demonstrated their coolness under fire. At the Academy though, it was the instructors who filled the roll, usually, though at times each cadet had had a chance. They kept her there though, because she seemed to handle it well, and because she had no place in the shield wall. There were some things that hard work and effort simply couldn't overcome, and she would never grow taller or gain the dozens of kilograms that would be needed for her to find a place there.

That suited her just fine though, she had no desire the be in a place in which she would only get in the way. But it had bothered her at first that she wouldn't be facing quite the same danger as the rest of her comrades. Afraid that it might alienate her further. Nevertheless she had thrown herself into her new roll. Working her hardest to prove that she deserved to hold it.

It had been a struggle at first. She had been terrible with the riot gun, though as she walked towards the training ground she reflected upon just how proficient she had come over the last few weeks. She had also had trouble seeing. Once the groups of 'protestors' met the shield wall visibility through the legs of her fellow cadets fell to zero, and she had had trouble determining where to fire her rounds and break up the crowds. But she had found a solution to that too, using her powerful legs to briefly jump above the fray. She had even found herself capable of dragging some of the larger cadets away from the lines when they fell, though the very largest, like the elephant, Roy, were still much beyond her abilities.

She reached the training ground on Opher's heels and donned her equipment. Most of the other cadets were already assembled, and Judy was surprised to see that her class was not the only one there. There were at least three others. More than 100 cadets all standing around in riot gear waiting for things to start. She hadn't realized that this was to be such a big event, though each day the intensity and chaos of the training had been escalating. Still, this would be the first time her class would work with anyone else but themselves and she was excited to see them all in action.

There was something deeply moving about seeing dozens of mammals all moving as one with what she thought to be military precision. Each knowing their place in the long orderly dance.

"Classes Apple, Baker, Charlie! Fall in on your class leaders!" The call rang out, and suddenly the training ground was filled with activity as the cadets frantically found their places beside their class leaders. The instructors added to the noise with calls of "Look alive there," and "Dress it up, you damn animals!"

And then there was silence, each cadet staring ahead at their class instructors, waiting with barely contained anticipation for what came next.

"Battalion! Atten-tion!" A slight rippling in the ranks followed, as many cadets stood just a little straighter and others checked their spacing. Just beyond elbow to elbow. _Always._

The class instructors stood about a dozen paces in front of the line conversing quietly amongst themselves, far enough away that even Judy could not hear them. Her blood was up, standing there behind the line with her riot gun, the waiting was killing her, the minutes dragging on with painful sluggishness. And then finally the small conference broke up.

The head instructor spoke, his voice carrying across the ranks of assembled cadets. "Battalion, today we will be practicing _battalion_ maneuvers. Surprise, surprise. It will require you to put into practice what you have learned amongst your individual companies. Battalion drill is no different than company drill, and if you can do that, you should have no problem. We will be here until we get it right." He glanced at his watch. "Instructors, see to your companies." The class instructors left the head instructor's side and filtered back through the ranks of cadets. Taking up their stations behind the companies.

"Battalion, by the right flank, march!"

The cadets turned right, every second cadet stepping up, and the two ranks became four as the battalion began its march around the field.

"Battalion, by files left!" There was a pause as the order was relayed to each company by the commanding instructors. "March!" The order went out just as they were reaching the limit of the field and the head of the column snaked left, keeping them away from the boundary.

It went on like this for two hours. The battalion of cadets put through all sorts of drill under the hot afternoon sun. They marched in column of fours, halted, fronted, wheeled, marched directly from column into line, marching forward and back in their shield wall, and even practiced disengaging one company from the line of battle allowing another to relieve them, each squad in the companies forming a small column and marching back away from the line, allowing the columns of the new company to pass through them and take up their stations. All these things the classes had practiced on their own, but with the other two the seemingly simple company drill became much more difficult. The flanks of the companies tended to bump into one another, and Judy and the other file closers spent much of their time ensuring that their squads weren't marching faster or slower than the other squads or companies. The entire battalion line bowing and swaying when they didn't get it right.

Eventually though, they were halted, returned to company front, and made to wait in the hot sun while the instructor's decided on the next activity. And then without warning all the instructors, including the head, moved behind their line, admonishing any cadets that shifted from their position as they did so. Dress, dress, was the word repeated again and again until the lines became orderly and straight once again. Then an ATV rode up behind the line towing a trailer full of boxes. Judy tried to look but she, like all the others, was reminded to keep her eyes front.

"Those with riot guns, fall in on me!"

There was some hesitancy, the cadets in the line trying to steal glances behind them and those with the guns exchanging glances, unsure of what to do.

"At the double, gods damn you! Fall in!"

There was no hesitancy after that, Judy and the others rushed to their instructor's side and fell in at attention.

"Fill your webbing and load your weapons."

They did so, grabbing the canisters in great handfuls. Judy could only reasonably carry 15 rounds, she didn't have enough space in her equipment and too many more than than that and she would be overloaded, but others could carry far more. They were live, the tear gas grenades. She had only fired the real thing once or twice, and that she was loaded to the brim with them now made her heart race. She shook with anticipation for what would come next.

"Return to your ranks," the head instructor said, and she and the others did so as the ATV drove off, leaving the trailer and its contents behind.

They waited again, the minutes dripping by, almost slower than before, the discipline in the ranks slipping. The cadets weren't standing quite so tall, nor were they keeping their eyes straight ahead as they glanced around searching clues as to their future.

There was a sound, a cheer, from far off across the field beneath a low rise that blocked their view. The sound caused a stir in the ranks, the shorter mammals craning their necks to see while the taller murmured to their neighbors just what they saw.

"There are a lot of them."

"Who?"

"I don't know, guess they are 'protestors'."

"How many?"

"I don't know, looks like hundreds."

 _Hundreds._ The very thought of it made Judy's blood run cold. There were barely one hundred of them, closely packed together in two ranks, the third hardly deserving such a title. It was not enough to stop hundreds of protesters. It was just training, she reminded herself, controlled and safe. She was in no particular danger, and neither was anyone else. How could they be?

"Cadets! Expect no quarter." Uneasiness rippled through the line. "Don your masks!" And they did, each cadet frantically affixing their gas masks to their faces.

The was another sound and the 'protestors' crested the rise, wearing armor much like their own, armed with clubs and other devices, some even carrying shields. They yelled and screamed as they approached, making as much noise as they could and stopped about 30 meters away. It was so loud, the yelling and baying, the roaring and banging, it made it hard to hear the orders of their instructors.

"Battalion!" The pause again, the the sounds of the class instructors yelling "company!" could be heard up and down the line, though only just. "Ready!" The shields came up in one crisp and smooth motion, the company to Judy's right following suite only a moment after her own, the line tightening together to ensure there were no gaps.

The rocks came then, by the dozen, smacking into shield and armor, eliciting the occasional grunt of pain from cadets' lines. Judy cheated forward, desperate to be under the protection of the raised shields of the second rank, and she dodged a flying rock as she moved forwards.

"Damnit, Hopps! Get back to your position!" her class instructor yelled as he dragged her back to her place.

"Riot guns! Open fire!" The order rang out, loud, even over the din. And Judy opened fire, her first round totally blind. She calmed herself then, reminding herself that it was all just training, she knew what to do, and she lept into the air to fire her second. She didn't see where it landed. It was hard to breathe in her mask, and it made her leaping all the more difficult. She had only fired 4 rounds and she was already beginning to pant. She had never experienced anything like it before, the small company drills not even coming close. It was terrifying and exciting, and she was expending her energy at a stupendous rate. Dodging rocks and leaping into the air to send gas canisters into the furious crowd before her. They charged only moments later.

The cadets line reeled under the assault, bent, bent, held, and then bent again. Each company giving ground only begrudgingly, but giving in nonetheless. Judy kept up her barrage, all thought of training long gone as she fired her rounds directly into the faces of their assailants. The gas filling the air and making it hard to see. It was all having an impact though, the gas and the batons. And the assault ceased almost as soon as it began, the mock protesters withdrawing about 40 meters away, getting away from the gas. In barely two minutes of combat Judy had used more than half of her ammunition and was on the brink of an exhaustion the likes of which she had never felt, and she sucked in great gulps of air through the filter as best she could. She could see too that the cadets ahead of of her were in much the same state, panting hard behind their masks.

But it wasn't over, they had but a moment to catch their breaths before the protesters came on again. Judy kept shooting as quickly as she could reload, but the assault was concentrated now directly on her company, and the whole battalion seemed to bow as the center was pressed back and back, barely holding its own. A cadet ahead of her, a wolf, fell after she was struck upon her helmet by a club, and Judy fired one last round before she rushed forward to push the tiger in the second rank forward and drag the wolf out of the line. Helping her return to her place once she regained her senses. Then another fell, a jaguar this time, his legs swept from under him, and then another, there were cadets falling all up and down the line, one even lost to the protesters as they continued to push, his comrades unable to drag him out in time.

There were no reserves, nothing they could do, all the riot guns out of ammunition and the line thinning by the minute. Those fallen that were still able and willing to fight were pushed back into the line but there weren't enough, and soon Judy found herself in the second rank, carrying a recovered shield far too large for her.

Confusion, it was all that surrounded her, the screams and yells of both sides melding with the crashed and bangs of batons and clubs and shield and armor. She stood behind an elephant, the massive mammal one of the few in their line seemingly unphased by the combat that surrounded them. And Judy did her best to lash out at the shins of their attackers, knowing that even that might help stem the tide. But it was not enough, there was a lull, barely more than a minute, the protestors withdrawing back again. The calls from the instructors to hold filtering up and down the line. And then they came on again, at full speed, and smashed into their line, sweeping it aside as if it were not there at all. And her company broke, and with it went the rest of the battalion into wild flight, all sense of order and reason forgotten.

Judy went with them, carried from the fray by the elephant she had been standing behind, protesting at the indignity all the way. The cadets reached the boundary of the field before the realized they were not being pursued. They had gone nearly 150 meters before they realized their mistake, but they were unwilling to go back, exhausted as they were, and they were immensely thankful that it all seemed to be over. Many fell to the ground where they stood and tore off their masks, gulping in the warm afternoon air.

A whistle blew and the call sang out, "Battalion! Fall in!"

It was with intense reluctance that the remaining cadets stirred from their places and slowly made their way back. They were reassembled, those with injuries, the majority quite minor, tended to, and they stood looking ahead at their instructors, though most with far less military bearing than when they had started.

"Good job today cadets, you held on a lot longer than most. It is unlikely they you will ever face a real situation like that one in your careers, totally unsupported. But know they you will almost always be outnumbered." There was an uneasy shifting in the ranks, the cadets unsure of where the remarks were going. "Know though, that even in the darkest of times, the most dire of situations, that as long as you stick together, and work together, you will never be alone."

There was silence for a moment, before the head instructor barked out an order, "Battalion, dismissed! You have classes in 15 minutes. If you're late, you'll regret it."

* * *

"Well that was fun today, don't you think?" Opher asked as he peaked his head through the door of Judy's room. She looked up from her book and gave him an exhausted smile.

"I hope I never have to be in a riot line. I don't think I have ever been so tired. My legs have been like jelly ever since!"

"I getcha. One of the mammals attacking us got me right in my neck," he said as he entered, rubbing his neck. "I can't bend my head to the left!" And as he said it he demonstrated, his face screwing up in pain as he did so.

"Well then don't do it!" she admonished, throwing her pen at him. "You'll only make it worse you dummy."

He laughed as the pen rebounded off him and flew out the door. They both stared after it, and then their eyes met, and the message was clear. "Hah! Fine, I'll get it."

"Do you think they will make us do that again?" she asked as he returned.

"I don't know, I hope not. You think real crowd control is like that?"

Judy shrugged and pointed to the textbook laying open on her desk. "It can be. Sometimes worse. And even worse before there was good gun control."

"I heard there were protests in the City the other day, but I didn't hear of any violence. I am sure that is what it's like usually. Just protesters, complaining about something."

"Hey, protesting is important, how else are we supposed to let our politicians know what it important?" Opher rolled his eyes. "What were they protesting anyway?" she continued.

"Ah, you know that whole Arctician thing? With the war they are having. I guess the protesters want us to do something about it. Stop it or something. Though who knows how they expect us to do that."

His annoyance at the protesters was apparent, and Judy wondered just why he seemed so unhappy with them. She wanted to prod, hesitated, and then did it anyway.

"Why don't you like them?" she asked.

"Who?" he answered, clearly dodging the question.

"You know who I am talking about!" she pressed, determined to get at least something out of him.

"We shouldn't be getting involved," he replied after a short pause. "It's not our problem, and we shouldn't be sticking our noses in other mammals' business. And besides, if the Arcticians don't want to let the Ossetians go, then they have every right to stop them."

Judy looked at him quizzically, not entirely sure of to whom he referred. She recognized Arcticia, and of course she had heard about some fighting, but she had no idea who the Ossetians were, or why they would want to leave. Judy was almost wholly ignorant of those sorts of matters. Not because of some incapability to comprehend them, but rather because she had simply never really been introduced to them. World events like that had largely gone without her notice, cloistered as she was in Bunnyborough. But that ignorance didn't stop her mind from quickly processing what little information she had been given and drawing conclusions from it.

Question upon question arose in her mind. Who were the Ossetians and why did they wish to leave? And shouldn't they be allowed to? After all, if that is what they wanted they why shouldn't they have it? It sounded almost like what she had experienced, she realized. Her desperation to leave her comfortable and sheltered life, and her parents' efforts to stop her. She found herself empathizing with the Ossetians, whomever they were, wished them the best in their efforts to strike out and be their own mammals. She moderated it though, not wishing to get too far ahead of herself, had been admonished before at the Academy for jumping to conclusions far too quickly. And so she asked Opher a very basic question.

"Who are the Ossetians?"

"It's- ah, it's complicated. They are mammals from the Arctician province of Ossetia. And they had decided that they don't want to be a part of Arctica anymore. So now they have gone and started a war over it."

She could tell he felt strongly about the issue, the condescension in his tone towards the Ossetians almost painfully apparent. She had never considered the idea that a nation might not be an eternal and immutable structure. That there might be those who wished them broken apart. It had always always simply been a given when she was growing up. Bunnyborough was a part of Zootopia. So it was from time immemorial and so shall it always be. And the same for the other parts of Zootopia too.

She was suddenly uncertain about her feelings towards the Ossetians. Didn't like the idea that something like a nation could be broken up on a whim, sending things into chaos. Forcing her to don armor and go out and face crowds like she had that afternoon. That terrifying and humbling afternoon.

And now there was a war on there, and no doubt mammals were dying and homes destroyed as result. Which only compounded the unease she felt.

"I heard you did good today, Hopps." Opher interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh? Who told you that?" she replied skeptically, unsure of whether or not he was making game of her. That was not his nature though, she knew that, and perhaps at one time the thought would have never crossed her mind. But she wasn't the same bunny she had been even just a few months before.

"No, I mean it. I heard you were all over the place. Even joined the ranks and tried to fight them back. Roy said he had to drag you away from the fighting when we ran or you wouldn't have stopped."

She looked away from him, hiding her embarrassment. "It didn't happen like that, I just didn't see everyone run at first."

"Hah, well maybe that's what happened, no need to spread that around though, hah ha!." He winked at her, and somehow it made her feel a little bit better about the whole thing. Opher was the _super cop_. Good at everything he tried and well liked by all who knew him. She was near the top of the class right along with him, but he just seemed to _belong_ there, as if that number one spot was meant explicitly, and only, for him. She coveted his praise, whenever it was dealt. Which was rarely to be sure. He could be, at times, short tempered and silver tongued, though that too was rare. He was, most usually, kind and forgiving, especially with her, but not one predisposed to flattery. He was a good friend, which was just what she needed. Even a rival at times, though she suspected that it was a rather one sided competition, he never really understanding just how hard she had to work to stay just one step behind him.

It was a frustrating thing at times. Knowing that no matter the effort expended there was also someone else just that much better. Infuriating even, because of how easy it was for them. But she had come to accept it. Like she had come to accept many things. The difficulty of the Academy. The handicap she carried because of her tiny stature in comparison to the other cadets. And indeed the opinions all of the them seemed to have towards her species. It had taken her quite a bit longer to gain her compatriots' trust. Make them recognize that her days _weren't_ numbered. And that she could be a positive contributor to the class.

There were still moments though, when she was struck by depression, fear, frustration, and second thoughts. Nick remained at the forefront of her mind too. Her memories of him alternating between fond and frustrating. She was cut off from the world at the Academy, mostly, and so his status remained a mystery to her. One which she would revisit with embarrassing frequency. She knew that there was nothing that could be done on that front, not until she left, but that she had been so mislead by him ensured that the wound would remain open and painful.

It had building up, her frustration with him, almost to the point of distraction. She had trusted him, even after he came clean about his name. But every day she spent in the Academy she had less reason to trust his story. The broad strokes of things seemed to be right, the timeline of his entrance and his promotions. But it was in the details where things went awry. Details of procedures that didn't make sense, or seemed to only be performed on television anymore. And as far as she could tell there had never been a fox at the Academy. There had been reluctance there too, to paint his life in anything more than a light coat. She had justified it then, believing, as he said, that his job required secrecy. But she didn't really believe that anymore, and so she was left wondering just what he had been hiding.

"You ok, Hopps?" Opher asked, poking at her, like he often did, when she seemed long lost in her thoughts. Always concerned, always understanding.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she gave him her usual response... and the game began.

"No you're not. What's up?"

This was not the first time they had done this dance, Opher picking up on her souring mood and instantly leaping forth to discover its source. That had annoyed her too, at one time. Though she had begun to appreciate it, had spent more than one night venting to him. He had reciprocated too, and they had commiserated upon their trials and tribulations together. It had eased the long days at the Academy. Made the trying existence bearable, more than even. But she was not always interested in venting. Some topics totally off limits. Nick in particular.

But she could not lie. Had never been good at it, and until she left the burrow had never _wanted_ to be good at it. But by Frith did she wish she was then. "It's nothing, Opher, really." She refused to make eye contact and shifted away from him in her chair so she could more easily avoid it.

He huffed at the transparency of her deception and said, "You know, _Judy_ ," the emphasis on her name stung her, "you're always much happier when we skip this and just tell me whats up."

She sighed, knowing the truth in his words. But there was just no way she could let him into that part of her life, see through that window. She wasn't even sure what he would see.

The wound festered though, eating at her little by little each day. It wasn't with her always, just at moments of idleness, when it would scrap at the edges of her thoughts, threatening to cloud everything in uncertainty and self doubt. She would feel better if she told him. She knew that. But she had no idea how to articulate the roiling emotions that sometimes seemed to overwhelm her. It took her everything to fight it back, push them down, and reseal them in the recesses of her mind.

But she also knew that there had never been a point in her life when she hadn't been able to share everything with _someone_. There had always been someone in the burrow whom she could have leant on when she needed it. She had always had a release valve. One of the benefits of living such a close, communal, lifestyle. But not there, at the Academy, not really. Opher meant well, but he was not her family, not _him_. But she had to tell someone about it. Had to, it was making her miserable, the thought that Nick had lied.

"Judy?" Opher pressed again, concern lacing his voice.

She leaned back in her chair, the studying she was ostensibly working on long forgotten, and said, "Opher, I have this friend… I met him back in Bunnyborough. He lied to me. And I trusted him." Her voice quivered, she fought back tears, but she wasn't done. She had to tell him. Not everything. No, she would keep certain details out, like his species, and his name, and how exactly she came to meet him, but she had to tell him.

She told him about how Nick had told her he was a cop, and how he had rekindled her dream to do the same. About how for the first time in a long time she had someone who she felt treated her like an equal, like she wasn't being silly or naive for wanting something more than what her burrow could offer. About how he made her feel about herself and in turn how she felt about him. And then she told him about the lies she was sure he told her, about how she had checked the school records and there was never a trace of him to be found, and how it made her feel as though everything else was invalidated. As if his encouragement had all been a lie too, and how it made her now wonder if she even believed in herself. She even told him about the gift and told him about the notes that came with it, and how it all seemed to take on a different light once his duplicity had become clear.

Opher listened to all that and more, only interrupting to slow her down as she became more animated. She appreciated that, it was just like Nick, and had been one of his most endearing qualities, his almost inexhaustible ability to simply listen. She finished though, her story, and the tale didn't require his infinite patience. And when she was he leaned back and let out a low whistle.

"This guy seems like quite the mammal," he said.

"He is… or so he says," she replied, unable to keep her disappointment in Nick from her voice.

"I'm sorry he lied to you," Opher said, "he could be an officer though. You know, not everyone who ends up in the ZPD comes through the Academy."

"I know," she sighed. "I know. But then why did he lie about being here?"

"Maybe he didn't think you would figure it out."

She scoffed. "How wouldn't I? It's such an easy thing to check! The halls are lined with class pictures!"

"Well, he obviously didn't know that," Opher said, a grin threatening to play across his lips.

Judy was unable to suppress her own. "Obviously."

"I think he meant what he said about you."

She looked at him, searching his face for sincerity. "Yeah? And how do you know?"

"Well… it just seems like it would have been much easier to do otherwise. Right? I mean, no offense, but rabbits aren't usually the officer type."

"What do you mean?"

"If he didn't mean it, then why would he bother encouraging you?"

"I–" she arrested her retort, realizing that what he said made sense.

"Plus, there's that whole gift." He shrugged. "There is just no way he would have sent it otherwise."

Yeah. There was no way. It would be a crazy thing to do if it had all been some ruse. And much of the other things he did too. He had been wonderful, his entire time at the burrow, had not even flinched at the idea of her becoming a cop. And he had done so much for her. She realized then that whatever else he may have been. that those things at the very least were true. She wanted to find other things too, to fix the picture and return things to the way they had been before. Stop the lies from being just that. It was impossible though, and she recognized that, but, at the very least, she knew that his belief in her wasn't a lie.

"Bit of a prick though, eh?" Opher smiled at her, clearly sensing the uptick in her mood.

She laughed. Yes, Nick was a prick, and if… no, _when_ she saw him again, she would let him know just what she thought of him.

"It still hurts though," she finally replied after a moment of silence.

"Yeah… that stuff always does."

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **I actually had to do a pretty major rewrite of this one over the last weekend. I don't think I went into it at first with a real clear of what my goal for it was and as a result it came out a bit weak. It is better now, though I think if I had more time I would make additional changes...**

 **Anyway, some little things:**

 **The drill is loosely based Casey's Infantry Tactics Vol. I, which was used by Union troops during the American Civil War, and the rebels too, though they usually used Hardee's. They are very similar though.**

 **There will be no love triangles! I hate that stuff.**

 **Again, all comments and feedback are welcome!**

 **Live well!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello everyone, I have for you the next part of Saving Wilde, in which we continue with our friend Nick's little adventure in the nascent state of Ossetia.**

 **Thank you to all those who reviewed and read the last chapter. Though for those reviewers who left comments as a guest: I can't reply to guests! So if you would like your questions answered you gotta sign in.**

 **I don't own any Disney characters, and my own aren't worth stealing.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The BMP-74 was cramped and noisy, cold too, the heater really only enough to keep the crew up front warm. But there was armor around him, even if was only enough for small arms and shrapnel, and that made him thankful. It would keep him safe from the sporadic shelling that wracked the city, unless of course they were unlucky enough to suffer a direct hit.

They had been in the BMP-74 for more than an hour, chauffeured around the city visiting various emplacements and fighting positions. Daniil had long since left them, only staying long enough to show them a camouflaged tank staging ground. Nick had been amazed the large bear had even been able to fit inside the tiny passenger compartment. Not easily, of course, but he managed. Marat had gone with him, winking at Nick as he left. His final, parting shot leaving Nick confused, and with a rapidly deepening pit in stomach.

The General had left them too soon after, during a stop when they had been given a short tour of his HQ, only 500m behind the front. Nick wondered about that, because while it was a great place for an HQ if the General's goal was to keep track of the fighting in the city, he wondered if Rokossovsky was allowing himself to become too focused on the fighting there, losing sight of the bigger picture. He didn't mention it of course, he was no military mammal. His time in Military Intelligence had been primarily related to Signals. He didn't know the business of a general, especially not one with such a distinguished career as Rokossovsky, and he wasn't about to tell the wolf his business.

Instead they had been assigned a member of the General's staff to finish off the tour. A goat this time, named Georgey. He was a pleasant fellow, very different from his decidedly dour commander, and he at least made the trip around Gromney bearable.

Truth be told, Nick really didn't give a shit about the fighting in Gromney. It was useful to him because it was useful to his superiors back in Zootopia, but he didn't actually _care_ about their cause, or about their defenses and preparations. He dutifully recorded as much as he was able of course, he would not fail in his duty to keep Zootopia informed, but he was not about to become attached to the mammals in the dying city which surrounded him. So the tour wore on him, left him with the feeling that he was being sent around the city so that he could go back and send teary eyed reports to his superiors who would then offer more support.

The tour wasn't a total wash though, even if it was uncomfortable and tedious. Looking at military equipment was always fun, and it was something that Finnick particularly enjoyed. At every stop he pointed out all the equipment, taking particular pleasure at being allowed inside the T-82s. He was too small to operate them of course, but even Nick had to admit, being inside a tank really gave truth to their power. Every item inside rugged, massive, and built for killing.

Even the BMP-74 had its charm at first, though being inside had quickly worn that off. They had started in a convoy of them, three platoons in all, nine machines. But just as they lost their accompanying VIPs so too had the other platoons returned to whatever is was that they did. It was probably for the best really, such a juicy target would attract attention.

"Only two more stops," Georgey said over the din.

Apparently they were going to an artillery battery next, though the Ossetian batteries had been silent for quite some time, preferring to save their ammunition for when the Arcticians actually mounted serious assaults. It saved them from having to displace constantly too, as it didn't take the Arcticians long to zero in on their positions and begin counter battery fire.

"How long till we get there?" Nick shouted back.

Georgey forwarded the question to the commander via the internal intercom, and then shouted back, "Vasily says 15 minutes or so."

Nick nodded his thanks, and then turned to Finnick, "Georgey says 15 minutes."

"I heard him. Artillery this time right?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

Finnick grinned up at him. "I can't wait," he said, and then, after a pause, "Think they'll let me pull the lanyard?"

"I doubt it Finnick," he replied, chuckling, "I don't think there are any fire missions planned for today."

"Bah, just one round won't hurt anyone."

Nick shot Finnick a look. "Yeah, no one except whoever the shell lands on."

"Not my problem Nick. If they are under one random shell then they are just unlucky. Maybe it was their time to die, as decreed by Frith. I am just his messenger. You never blame the messenger, Nick."

"I had no idea you were a religious mammal Finnick."

"I'll be whatever I need to be to shoot one of those guns."

"It's a little troubling that your convictions are so mealable. What would you have done to shoot one of those tanks?"

"Sell your ginger ass to the Arcticians."

"Hahahah, I never really thought to put a price on my own life, and now I am disturbed to find that it is so cheap."

"You better believe it," Finnick replied, grinning from ear to ear.

"Who selling to Arcticians?" asked Georgey, looking concerned.

"No one Georgey, it was a joke. Finnick here wants to shoot one of the guns at our next stop."

"We can do that," replied Georgey, a smile crossing his lips.

Nick's eyes widened, totally surprised by Georgey's willingness. "Uh, y– yeah that would be great," he stuttered out. He realized then that Finnick was gripping his arm far tighter than he ever could have imagined possible, smiling brightly up at him, fire in his eyes.

Then without warning, the engine slowed and Nick was thrown against the back of his seat as the BMP-74 made a sharp turn before coming to a halt. Georgey opened the rear hatch with a clank of the latch and the bright afternoon light flooded the small, cramped passenger compartment. They exited the vehicle, Georgey stooping through the rather small hatch, and found themselves in a small park between some five storey apartment buildings.

It was a surreal scene. The articles of war interspersed between the staples of a peaceful civilian life. A large playground dominated the center of the space, its main feature a large, dirty, jungle gym, still painted with flowers and sunshine, and stylized scenes of happy children playing. There were other things too, a swing set, chess tables, some of which remained undamaged, even a basketball court at the far end – all evidence of a life that was no more, and perhaps would never be again.

Three guns stood in the hollow between the tall apartments – 122mm 2A23s, Finnick informed him – medium artillery, increasingly rare in the first rate militaries, but still common in stocks all across Arctica. Soldiers were scattered everywhere, sitting atop ammunition boxes or around small fires, cooking food, laughing, playing cards or reading. The scene brought back memories of the hours and hours of boredom Nick had experienced during his time in the service, and all the things he did to escape it.

It was a peculiar trait of all the soldiers he had met so far that day, that despite how dire their situation, they all seemed to smile. He had thought it first that it was a show, that with the Prime Minister and General in tow that they were all just putting on a good face, but it continued even after they were long gone. It reminded him, somewhat, of his basic training in the Army, where even when things were as bad as their sergeants could make them, there was still humor in everything, and they would laugh about it all. The life of a soldier wasn't that bad, really. Of course there was the constant threat of death and injury, even when not in a combat zone, but to be a soldier, in Nick's experience, was to often lead a life unencumbered by pain of indecision and responsibility. A soldier had a well defined and easily understandable job, that being to do what they were told when they were told so by those that outrank them. Of course, accomplishing that job wasn't always so simple.

It was a liberating existence in a way, to have everything laid out before him so clearly, but for Nick at least, after a time he had chafed at the regimentation and authority. But living life in the immediate present, only concerned with what was immediately in his front did have its allure for a while.

And so he had come to understand as the day wore on, that the good spirits were not a show put on by the Ossetians, but instead the normal reaction of mammals who were undergoing intense hardship, but believed that their suffering would ease the same for all those that were important to them.

A soldier, an Arctica Fox, wearing a civilian winter coat approached them, and spoke with Georgey, glancing at the two foxes in tow. Their arrival had not elicited much interest, but the discussion between the two mammals was monitored with keen interest by those nearby. When they finished, Georgey turned to the two Zootopians, "This Senior Lieutenant Yumatov, commander here, he welcomes you to his battery. He can't speak Zootopian, but I translate any questions."

Nick nodded, smiling at the Lieutenant. "It's good to see another fox out here, so far from home."

The Lieutenant laughed once the message was relayed. "If you look closely, my friend, you will see I am not the only one in this army." He gestured around the park, and Nick could see that, behind all the heavy winter clothing there were indeed many foxes. "They like to keep us together," the Lieutenant continued via Georgey. "I suppose they think we work better together. We know better though, don't we?"

Nick and Finnick both laughed, though Georgey didn't quite capture the tone in translation. It wasn't true though, the joke, they got on quite well with the young Lieutenant, and he showed them his position, well camouflaged and prepared. He was quite willing to answer their questions too, even divulging information that Nick might have thought he would keep to himself, like their ammunition stocks, and relaying the boredom of his men, who hadn't gotten to fire their guns since they arrived in the position two weeks ago. Georgey smiled at that and informed him that he was to be their savior – he had a fire mission for them.

The Lieutenant brightened up perceptibly at the news, and began shouting orders. The park was suddenly alive with activity as the firing positions were cleared, and the guns loaded and run up, the crews grinning all the while, glad at the chance to finally express their pent up frustrations in the only way they could.

It would be a short bombardment, only nine rounds, any more and the Arcticians would begin zeroing in on their position, but that didn't really matter. Nor did it matter that there would be no spotting rounds, they were given coordinates, and they would let loose their guns and if they hit the target then all the better. Simply firing them, even if they hit nothing, gave the crews of the battery a purpose, fleeting, but a purpose all the same.

Nick watched the scene with growing trepidation. This was a risk, one which he saw as totally unnecessary. Firing these guns, even if no counter battery was possible, drew attention to them, and it was the sort of attention that could get them killed. Finnick though clearly felt differently, and he was even allowed to assist in the loading procedure of the nearest gun, though his diminutive stature made sure he could do little more than go through the motions.

And then there was silence, all activity ceased, everything ready. Each gun captain watching the Lieutenant intently. He had stood next to Nick during the entire procedure, a small grin across his muzzle, admiring the hard work before him. Even Nick had to admit that he was impressed. The crews seemed to know their business, though perhaps Nick wasn't one to be the judge. The Lieutenant called out to the captain of the nearest gun and told him to give Finnick the lanyard, who took it with what could only be described as kit-like glee. He looked back at Nick, nodding his head slowly, struggling in vain to hold back a crazed smile.

 _Well, at least he's happy_ , Nick thought. And perhaps this was only fair. After all, Nick had practically dragged him to Gromney, even though he really didn't need to be there.

Then the Lieutenant raised his arm above his head, holding it there, letting the tension reach a crescendo, "Strel'ba!" he yelled, throwing down his arm, and Nick felt as though he was punched in the chest, the enormous sound rattling his heart and spine.

The iron monsters had gone off, belching great tongues of flame into the sky. Finnick's first, so excited was he to fire that he had yanked his lanyard before the order was even complete. But the other two pieces were not far behind, and they added their thunderous voices to the din. The sound trapped between the surrounding buildings, echoing back and forth. Nick had never heard anything like it. Guns, of all sorts, were loud, some more than others. The R-17 he had been issued in the service a good example, but this was like nothing he had ever experienced. He had shot guns in all sorts of places, and he had thought that nothing could be louder than shooting a rifle full auto, or setting off a grenade, inside a CQB course. But even with his paws clasped tightly over his ears, the guns still left them ringing. And it did not stop, each gun crew firing their next round as quickly as they could. It was lucky that the barrage was so short, for with each successive round Nick felt as though his chest was being beaten in, the concussion in the small space so great.

And then it was over, and silence reigned once more, though the echos of the guns still seemed to ring through his head. It had been exciting, and unpleasant, that short little barrage. The awesome power of artillery perfectly evident before him, the god of war spitting its fury. But he also realized that that power could just as easily be turned upon them, and he found himself anxious to move on to their next stop. He checked himself though, made an effort to regain his composure. He refused to show weakness around these soldiers, the idea of being seen as some sort of effete cityslicker, pampered, fragile, to be absolutely galling. And he put on a mask of good spirits, one he had worn so many times before.

"So, what did you think of that, Nick?!" shouted Finnick as he approached, though in the quiet aftermath, marred only by the good humor of the crews, no such shouting was necessary.

"Very impressive," he offered back, "Are you glad you came now?"

"Absolutely! And I didn't even have to sell your dumb ass, haha!"

"Thank goodness for small miracles," Nick chuckled back.

And with that, their visit concluded, the gun crews busied themselves with cleaning their weapons while Finnick and the Lieutenant exchanged a final few words via Georgey.

They rumbled off, Nick thankful to once again be inside the armored box. They just had one more stop, and then they could get out of the war zone, that living hell. "What's our last stop?" he shouted across the passenger compartment, struggling to be heard over the noise of the engine.

"One more," Georgey shouted back. "Uh, right on front!" he continued, smiling as he nodded his head excitedly. "Maybe you shoot machine gun next!"

Nick stifled a groan and forced out a smile. That was the last place he wanted to be.

* * *

It was safe, he was assured over and over. The sector they were approaching hadn't seen anything more than sniping in more than a week. All they had to do was keep their heads down, and all would be fine.

That was certainly one way to put it, sticking their necks out like this, far farther than they had just done at the battery. Even Finnick's high was interrupted when he realized where they were about to go. Nick didn't understand why Georgey was so insistent or bringing them to wherever it was they were going. Orders, he said apologetically, every time he was asked. If it had not been for the fact that the atmosphere in the BMP-74 hadn't changed at all, aside from his own nervousness, and of course that of Finnick's too, he would have demanded to be let out of the cramped APC immediately. Nevertheless, Finnick's words the night before rang in his head. Don't be afraid of them, be afraid of what they didn't consider. Well, from Nick's perspective it seemed as though they hadn't considered a lot.

But there was not much that could be done about those things, and Nick comforted himself with the thought that very soon they would be leaving, and on a train back to the safety of Muskova by the next morning.

There was movement at the corner of his eye, and when he looked over towards the source he saw that the commander was crouched down at the bottom of the turret basket motioning for Georgey to pick up the intercom. He looked back at Georgey, who was listening intently to the mike. Suddenly, the goat looked as though he had been slapped, mouth slightly ajar, eyes wide, he spoke angrily into the microphone, too quietly for Nick to hear above the sound of the engine, going back and forth with the crew up front. Nick caught his eye after some effort and yelled over the din, "Is there something wrong?"

"No, no, no problem, no problem," Georgey waved his hoof dismissively before returning to the mike.

Nick leaned in, annoyed at being kept in the dark, and tried to catch even a snippet of what was being said. "...yes that is… no, no… what? No! Then turn around! What do you mean you can't…"

Nick leaned back abruptly, alarmed at just what he was hearing. The possibilities exploded into his head, the sector was under attack and they were about to be in the middle of it, one of the vehicles had gotten stuck, or worse, taken out, and now they were trapped. Why else couldn't they turn around? Well, whatever was going on he wasn't going to stand by and watch the world turn around him, he was going to find out just what the hell was going on. "Georgey! Whats going on?"

"No problem!" Georgey said again, not even looking at him.

Enough was enough. He unlatched his waist belt, moved across the small compartment, and grabbed Georgey's collar. "That's bullshit Georgey, tell me what the fuck is going on!"

Georgey's surprise was evident, he seemed frozen, staring back at Nick, eyes wide, unfocused and unmoving. He blinked, once, twice, and said simply, "Lost."

"What? What do you mean?"

"They took wrong turn. Don't know where. We're lost."

Ok, ok, they were lost, that wasn't the end of the world. They weren't under attack, and they weren't broken down. The were just lost, and he could deal with that, it was a simple problem really. "Alright, I have a–"

A massive explosion behind them rocked the BMP-74 and sent shrapnel pinging off the steel armor. Then their autocannon opened up in rapid fire mode, the 30mm gun making the APC jump and jitter, and the traverse motor shrieked with each turret motion. There were loud metallic slaps all over the vehicle, seeming to come from all sides. They had an oddly musical quality. The pitch changing at each point of the hull. The engine roared, and Nick was thrown into the rear hatch as the BMP-74 lurched forward.

It took him a moment to bring everything back together. The world around him was nothing but smoke and noise. He could, somehow, hear the little ventilator in the turret going, struggling mightily to clear the compartment of the noxious fumes from the cannon firing. He saw as one of the periscopes that lined the roof of their compartment jerk as it was struck by something, and then tumble to the floor by his feet. He could see Finnick yelling at him, could even hear the words, but they made no sense, sounding to him as if Finnick had his mouth full of… something.

Then it was clear again, the world came back into focus, and Nick realized he was laying on the floor of the BMP-74 as everything went to hell around him. And he was angry. Angry that with every shot of the autocannon the acrid smoke seemed to fill the inside of the BMP-74, making it hard to breathe, and angry that these fuckhead Ossetians were about the get him killed. He wrenched himself back into his seat, screaming at Georgey to get them out of there. He knew that there was nothing that Georgey could do, things were far beyond his control, but someone had to be the target of his displeasure, and Georgey was a particularly prime target.

"Georgey what the fuck have you–"

They were struck by lightning.

Or so it seemed; the noise was so much louder than anything else Nick had heard that day, and he felt as if he was back with the artillery battery, except that they had just fired off one of their guns inside the BMP-74. The wind was knocked from him and the hatch above him blown open, the latch snapped in two, before falling closed again with a sound Nick never heard. And the smoke, so thick now that he had trouble seeing across the compartment. He could see though, that the commander had fallen from his seat and was looking around in a daze. Their gunner hadn't stopped, he was still pouring out fire, Nick could feel every round, and their driver still drove them tenaciously onwards. But something was different, the sound of the BMP-74 just a little bit off, wrong, but he couldn't place it.

He looked over at Finnick, and was shocked to see him slumped over in his chair, blood dripping from one of his ears. Nick checked his own, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt that there was no blood there, his hearing had somehow been saved, once again. He shook Finnick, checked his pulse, still there, and strong, despite everything. He would have to make this up to him, somehow, in the future, though in that moment he couldn't even fathom how. He looked across at Georgey, who had curled himself into a ball, making himself as small as possible, and he smiled. The world was such a strange place.

The lightning hit them again.

It had much the same effect. The overpressure kicked him in the gut, blew the hatches above him open, and filled the compartment with smoke and dust. But this time, the BMP-74 veered abruptly to the left, and slammed into something, again throwing Nick about the compartment.

Time seemed to slow as he gazed about the interior from his place on the floor. Finnick was still out, his head lolling, only saved from a similar fate as Nick by virtue of his wearing a safety harness. Georgey was still attached to his bench too, though he was nursing a head wound, and seemed to be in much the same way as Nick. Disoriented, knocked about something cruel. There was movement above him and he looked up just in time to meet the eyes of the gunner, a grizzled wolf. He tried to think of his name, but it wouldn't come to him, and he wasn't even sure if he had ever known it. The gunner didn't linger though, he climbed over Nick, carrying a carbine, deftly moving through the passenger compartment, unhindered by the fact it was just barely more than a meter tall. He opened the rear hatch, the afternoon light flooding the small compartment, the sounds of the fighting outside invading the small space, and disappeared. The driver came next, grinning down at the prostrate fox as he passed. He said something that Nick didn't catch and then he too was gone. The slap, slap of bullets hitting the hull returned, but then died away, the fighting moving on.

Something wet and hot hit Nick's face, and he sat up to get from under the quickly building jet of hydraulic fluid pouring from the turret traverse lines. He thanked the gods that the the fluid hadn't ignited and immolated them all. He thanked them again that the ammunition that filled the center of their BMP-74 hadn't been hit and done the same. He checked himself for wounds and found none serious, though his head pounded, and thanked the gods again. He had always been lucky. A favorite of the gods an old friend of his had once said, and while he wasn't one to believe in that sort of thing, his life as of late had been working hard to make him so.

A thought filled his head then: _Finnick._ He had to save Finnick, nothing else mattered. He would never forgive himself if he let his little friend die, especially not after he was having such a great day. And it was because of him that he was here at all. He had protested, over and over, back in Muskova, nearly pleading not to go. There was no need for it, he had said, he was redundant, just an extra body to get in the way. And those things were true, all of them. But he was still needed. Ever since Koslov's bomb Nick had never felt safe going to places unknown by himself. He was wound up like a top, ready to shut everything down at the slightest hint of danger. He told himself that he was just being prudent, cautious, but deep down, a voice told him what the real problem was. He had lost his nerve.

Things were different though, with Finnick at his side. When he was there, had his back, Nick felt almost like he always had, confident, fearless, invincible. He didn't want to lose that any more than he wanted to lose his friend, and so he freed him from his harness and steeled himself for the perilous journey ahead.

A hoof rested upon his shoulder, shook him, and he turned to see Georgey, who kneeled by the half open hatch. "Commander dead," he said, pointing towards the front of the vehicle, not having to shout for seemingly the first time. Nick tried to remember if he had ever not shouted, but he followed Georgey's hoof and saw the commander crumpled upon the floor of the turret basket, face smashed to pieces. Nick felt nothing, had trouble even processing it, didn't understand why Georgey had even pointed it out.

He drifted, the shooting was getting louder, but he knew not from where, the sound seeming the come from all around him. Georgey was saying something, but the words made no sense. The world seemed to tilt for a moment, jumped back upright, and tilted again. It occurred to him that he was falling, but what he saw didn't seem to change, as if his eyes had taken a picture in their one last gasp before giving out. He heard it then, the voice, one he had heard before, so long ago, and longed for again. It was quiet at first, hardly discernable, calling his name. He knew who it was, could tell even before he could hear it properly, the tone so distinctive. _Judy._ The rabbit who had invaded his mind. She kept repeating his name, over and over, more desperate with each repetition. Nick, Nick, Nick… Nick! It was becoming clearer and clearer, but as it became so, it sounded less and less like her, and he found himself frantically trying to snatch her voice back. Nick, Nick, _Nick, wake up!_

"Nick, wake up, you fuckhead!" Finnick shouted at him.

Nick blinked up at him, the world seeming to finally make sense for the first time since the crash. "Ah, fuck," he groaned, rubbing his head. "Just five more minutes"

"Five more–? Nick, get the fuck up!" Finnick shouted, shooting a confused glance at Georgey, who simply shook his head. "C'mon Nick, we gotta get out of here."

His two companions pulled him upright, and again he checked himself for wounds. Headwound, badly bruised, probably concussed, but he would survive that one at least. Georgey grabbed their attention.

"Friends, we have to cross street. Not safe here."

"The hell do we have to cross for?" Finnick shot back.

"That way back to our lines. If quick, then safe." And with that, he crawled through the hatch, shielding himself behind it as he peaked down the road. "We go now!" he yelled as he bolted, sprinting as fast as he could. There was a snap, monstrously loud, and then another and another. Georgey seemed to sail through the air, legs kicked from under him, and he came down in a heap, tumbling. He let out a wail as he lay there facing them, agonized and terrified. Nick's mind froze as he watched the scene unfold, but the sound brought him back to his senses. "Don't move Georgey, we'll get you!" he yelled out to him.

"How the fuck we gonna do that?" Finnick asked, his tone, almost shrill, betraying the fear he did not show upon his face.

Nick had no idea, not the slightest inkling. But he didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to leave their escort there to die. "Don't move Georgey," he called again.

But Georgey did not listen, he shifted, trying to roll to his stomach, face screwed up in pain. A tracer passed, followed by the crack. Incredibly close, the green streak gone almost the moment it arrived. Nick wasn't even sure if it had hit Georgey, it had come and gone so quickly. There was no doubt about the next one though, or the others that followed.

"We have to get out of here Nick!" Finnick screamed.

Nick grabbed him and tore from the wrecked BMP-74, flying up the street like he had never done before, his only saving grace the cover provided by the wreck of their transport. He could feel it in his every heartbeat, the adrenalin, pumping through his every inch, propelling him onwards like he never thought possible. The passing ricochets, humming their deadly songs, only drove him further. There was a doorway to his left and he ducked into it, depositing Finnick next to him as he withdrew his pistol and busted the door open with his shoulder. It was an unnecessary action, the door hadn't been locked, and it swung inward with such rapidity that Nick nearly fell over himself as he crossed the threshold. He caught the handle though, steadied himself, and froze. For in the room beyond the door, a living room of some sort, were three soldiers, Arctician soldiers, all staring directly at him. No one moved, each mammal frozen in place, as if waiting for the other to make their move. Nick moved first.

He whipped up his pistol and aimed it the closest soldier, and shouted in Arctician, "Don't any of you fucking move!" None of them did, each had been caught in various states of unpreparedness, none with even a weapon easily at hand, the machine gun they apparently manned still pointed out the window only half loaded. "Ok," Nick said, "we are going leave now. Have a nice war!" He took a step back and one of the soldiers, a fox, darted for a rifle that lay only a few meters away.

It was a stupid move, the fox had a long way to go, and Nick was very close. He was never an incredible shot with a pistol, or any other gun for that matter, but in the tight spaces of the living room he couldn't miss. He took aim, regretting that he now had to personally kill someone, an act he had avoided for so long. But he had no choice, all three soldiers were about to try and kill him. He pulled the trigger.

 _Click_

Time slowed, his every focus upon the gun in his outstretched paw. He pulled the trigger again.

 _Click_

The sound was loud, seemed to echo around the room. It hadn't fired. His gun hadn't fired. His mind ground to a halt, everything forgotten except for the weapon in his paw. Why hadn't it fired? The question seemed to fill his head. He ran through the proper corrective actions for clearing the piece in his mind, knowing that he would be dead before he even began. But they seemed to be the only thing he could recall at that moment. Pull back upon th–

A shot rang out close by, Nick could feel the concussion of the slug as it passed by his waist, and he saw its effects. The fox going for the weapon had been hit in the side. As his legs gave out, he tumbled to the floor with a yelp, missing the rifle completely. There was another shot, and the soldier closest to Nick fell, hit in the neck, eyes wide in shock as he died. The last soldier threw up his paws and shouted his surrender, but he was treated no differently than the other two, and he crumpled to the ground in a heap without uttering another word.

"What the fuck was that Nick?" Finnick asked as he walked past Nick towards the still groaning fox.

Nick didn't reply. He remained staring at the malfunctioning pistol now aimed at an empty wall, and he thanked the gods that he had made Finnick come along. It had certainly been the right decision. He wracked the slide, and examined the chamber. But he knew what the problem was before he had even had the chance to look. No bullet had ejected from the pistol when he manipulated it. The gun was unloaded, he had never chambered a round.

He knees grew weak, his heart pounded. Again, he had been at the cusp of death, staring into its abyss, felt its cold fingers brush his fur. And why? Negligence. Negligence. _Negligence!_ What was his problem? Was he trying to get himself killed? What was wrong with him?

He couldn't answer any of those questions. He had no desire for self sabotage, had every intention to lead a long and happy life. But if that were true, why was he paying so little attention to the world as it pass–

Another shot rang out, and Nick saw that Finnick was standing above the fox, pistol still smoking. Finnick looked back at him over his shoulder. "Are you done Nick? Can we go?"

Nick understood the question, he could smell the fear and anger radiating from his own body and knew Finnick would have detected it long ago. He sighed. "Yeah, I'm done. Let's go." They grabbed what supplies they could carry and left the house out the back, moving deeper into the Arctician side of Gromney.

"What the hell was that back there?" Finnick asked as they ducked into an alleyway.

"A misfire," Nick lied. "Scared the shit out of me. Thought I was going to die, haha!" He laughed, but it wasn't very convincing, and he certainly hadn't felt the humor.

"You gotta stop freaking out Nick, you're gonna make me lose my nerve."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Finnick. I don't know what's come over me lately."

"If you don't calm down we aren't gonna get out of here. I'll fucking kill you if that happens. And how are we _going_ to get out of here?" Finnick asked, changing the subject.

Nick had no idea, well, not really, but that didn't really matter to him. They had a number of options, most of them bad, but they were options, and they had freedom of movement. They weren't being railroaded into picking the most expedient course just because it was quick, consequences be damned.

They could try to get out of the city on the Arctican side, blend in with the remaining civilians, but that meant taking a big risk. While they were both adept at speaking the language, though perhaps less so in Finnick's case, they certainly didn't sound like they were from Ossetia, and especially not Gromney. Nick could fake an accent, but he wasn't familiar enough with the Ossetian example to do it proficiently. He sounded too much like a Muskovian not to raise suspicions. Finnick was even worse off. He sounded like a Zootopian who could speak Arctician. His cover would be blown long before even Nick's. It didn't help that neither of them were typical species for Ossetia, or even Arctica. Finnick was probably one of only perhaps a few hundred Fennecs in country, if there were even that many. And as a red fox, Nick tended to stand out like a sore thumb amongst all the whites, greys, and browns of the foxes native to this far northern country. In the metropolitan Muskova the red wasn't so rare, but there had been times in the past when he had dyed his fur to fit in, but he had always hated that, and it would take months to come out completely.

No, it seemed as though the better option, in his mind anyway, was to wait for nightfall and then sneak back across the lines. If they had been so porous as to let a lost platoon of BMP-74s wander through them, then they couldn't be that hard to get back over. He took out his phone and checked his GPS, which thankfully didn't require a cell signal. They were only a few hundred meters beyond the line that he understood to be the defacto no mammal's land that ran down one of the major streets in that area. It wouldn't be that hard to get back assuming they weren't shot in the process. A large risk perhaps, but what was life without risk?

Yes, that was what they would do, a moment of danger and then everything after that would be simple. It would be like pulling a bandaid. He realized then how much better he felt then, he had a problem to solve, right in front of him, and that made him feel much more like himself. "Alright, Finn, we wait."

"We wait? For what?"

"Darkness, of course!" Nick replied, the old familiar confidence suddenly returning. "I have a cunning plan!"

Finnick rolled his eyes at him but said nothing.

"Oh, by the way," Nick continued, "how's your ear?"

* * *

"You see anything out there yet, Artyom?" a voice called out from inside the building.

"Nyet!" came the reply.

"Well keep looking!" There was a chuckle, shared by the the other occupants of the room just beyond the window below which Nick sat, Finnick less than a meter away too, hugging the wall.

"You think he will figure it out?" asked another voice, though the sound barely carried beyond the window.

"Artyom?" came the sarcastic reply, "Oh, sure, sure. Though I think the war might be over by then!" There was raucous laughter, which only seemed to die reluctantly. "Blyad."

"Bah, you should be nicer to him. He is still young."

"And stupid, and he is only a year younger than me."

"Yes, well, looking at you, no one would know it!"

The laughter again, though perhaps with less feeling, less genuine mirth, the group of soldiers falling into silence soon afterwards. And it ticked on, interminable, pregnant, until one of the soldiers said, "Gotta take a piss." And approached the window beneath which Nick sat. Indeed had been sitting for some time. Ever since he had realized that the room beyond was in fact occupied by the soldiers of Arctica.

He had not expected them there, though it was, perhaps, not surprising. The front being so close. But he had spent so much time surveying the building, judging it to be an excellent position for just what he found, soldiers, and yet he had felt it to be empty. No sound nor light emanated from within, and not a single paw print could be seen outside in the snow covered streets. It, like so many other buildings they had passed on their journey away from the ambush site, had seemed dead and forgotten, and he had been confident that they would be able to cross at least one street closer without any interruption.

There was the sound of a zipper above him and then the stream came, splashing barely 30 centimeters ahead of him. He looked up, slowly, expectantly, terrified that he might find himself staring into the eyes of a very surprised soldier. But the window above him was blessedly empty, the occupant electing to stay just inside the frame, too far back to see past the edge down to where Nick huddled, doing his best not to cough or hack at the overwhelming stench of urine that seemed to fill his nostrils.

The stream slowed then, sputtered, and died, the last few drops of the retreating jet landed about him and on him, mingling with the hydraulic fluid that matted his fur. The talking began again as the soldier returned to his comrades and Nick judged it to be time to move again. He rose, slowly, his knees protesting painfully as they unbent, and he gestured for Finnick to follow. No such gesture was necessary of course, even the dumbest of the mammal kingdom would have smoked his intentions the moment he stirred, but he did it out of long habit anyway.

He took a step, testing the snow, more grey than white in this part of the city, the fires dusting nearly everything with ash. There came the inevitable crunch, and then another, and another. They seemed loud to him, situated as he was in the alley between two buildings, but he knew that it did not carry far, and soon he found himself at the opening into the next street. He took a left, Finnick following close behind, and moved down the street in a brisk hunching jog. He intended to cross it, but he had no desire to alert Artyom, who was doubtful blind on top of being a fool.

He crouched again, in the shadows beside a stoop, and repeated the process again. Wait, watch, wait some more. He peered into the darkness, searching desperately for any signs of life. Finnick was there too, searching, watching. They were in tune with one another, senses meshed together like the teeth of a pair of gears. They scanned, with their eyes, and with their ears, moving back and forth to cover every sector ahead. No sound passed between them, none was needed, he could smell the moment that Finnick thought he might have heard something with his one good ear, and could home in on the source with naught but a glance at his friend. And he reminded himself just how glad he was that Finnick was there.

They found nothing, though they moderated their assessment based upon the results of the last. There would always be that risk though, no point dwelling upon it if they were doing their diligence. Which they were, or so he felt. He glanced at Finnick, caught his eye, nodded, and then bolted across the street. Staying low, and he slid to a halt beside the building that stood directly across from where he had started. He watched Finnick do the same, annoyed that he hadn't crossed with him, and then they both hunkered down beside the building, and watched and listened and waited. Falling back into their routine as if they had never interrupted it.

There was no unusual sound, no stirring from anywhere. The far off booming of artillery muffled by the cold night air and snow the only think to marr the stillness of the night. Nick continued to sit, until the cold began to pierce his clothing in earnest, and then stirred, rising from his place and moving into a nearby alleyway, every step bringing him closer to the front.

He wasn't afraid, any fear he might have felt long reduced to a numb insensibility by the cold, but he didn't like the risk. Knew he had to take it, but found it unpleasant all the same. He had had time to think, while they had waited for darkness, replay the events of the day over and over in his head. It had probably been a mistake, dwelling on those things he thought he might have done differently, for all it did was further sour his mood. Marat loomed large in his mind. The looks, knowing, condescending, and the gestures too. Everything he did seemed to scream at Nick that he was dangerous, not to be trusted, that he knew something that Nick didn't, and that that thing was of vital importance to Nick's wellbeing. There was simply something off about the rabbit. A danger that Nick couldn't quite articulate. And he resented him for it. And so too because he felt that the rabbit thought he was better than Nick, and had the pedigree to prove it.

Nick slipped, as he was about halfway down the alley, caught himself on his paws and knees, and found himself staring into the snow covered back of a dead soldier. He sat up, back on his haunches, and whispered to Finnick, "You need anything? This one still has his equipment."

"Water would be good," Finnick whispered back, eyeing the path ahead.

Nick rolled over the body, stiff but not quite frozen, and went through the pockets and webbing. Bullets, a light, cigarettes and a lighter, he handed those to Finnick, a grenade, money, also pocketed, documents of various sorts inside the jacket though nothing of value, a small medical pack, even a pair of gloves far too large for him. All of these things he found, but no water, no canteen could be found anywhere. It was disappointing, though no crushing loss, they could eat the snow around them if they really must, though it was unpleasant and left Nick feeling only colder when he did.

They moved on, leaving the dead soldier where he lay. By Nick's reckoning they were a mere 100 meters from the front, and they watched and waited, waited and watched for any signs of life before them. He found what he was looking for quickly, the block ahead of them clearly garrisoned. A few mammals stood just inside of a door, smoking, the red embers lighting up their faces in the dark. Nick moved, slowly, perpendicularly to the front, saw another alleyway, grabbed Finnick, and flew across the street, coming to a halt in the blessed darkness. They were hidden, absolutely, except if some poor unfortunate soldier stumbled upon them, it would be his last act. A light flickered on, far down the street, effulgent against the dim background. It searched the street, hunting. If it had fallen upon them Nick knew they were too far away to truly be seen, but their eyes, the glowing gold orbs in a sea of blackness would give them away.

There was a shot, perhaps only a few hundred meters away, probably far less, the sharp crack piercing the night. And then there was more, wild and rapid, but then it ceased, and the night was still again. They kept moving, closer and closer, until Nick was sure they were in no mammal's land, the evidence of fighting everywhere he turned. But despite being so much closer to his goal, his anxiety only increased, sent his heart into his throat where it's beating threatened to drown out all conscious thought. He didn't trust the Ossetians, not as long as Marat had their Prime Minister's ear. Things just hadn't sat right with him, not since the ambush. He didn't understand how they could have simply driven through the lines in the way they had, right into the waiting paws of the Arcticians. And that was perhaps just it, he felt as though he had been set up, led to slaughter deliberately. The error was too unusual, so he felt, almost farfetched.

So now, as he carefully infiltrated the front line of this terrible war he felt as though he was simply hopping out of the frying pan and into the fire. He had originally planned to cross and then immediately link up with friendly Ossetians. But were they really friendly? Probably not, though it was rather because they probably had no idea who he was rather than them all being in on some malicious plot to do him in. No, he felt he could see exactly the way things might play out. They would be detained, if not shot out of paw, and then the questions would filter up the chain until it reached Marat and Daniil. Or perhaps it would stop at Marat, and that would be the end of all things. Nick found himself wishing he had stayed on the Arctician side of the lines. At least there was no uncertainty there. He knew them to be enemies, and he could act accordingly. Instead he was taking step after step into the great unknown.

So the plan had changed, they would pierce the Ossetian lines are far as they could, as best they could. And if things went well they would steal a car and leave the city. Perhaps even return to Sergey's. He suspected that he at least would be willing to take them back across the border, especially if he greased his wheels with more than a little money. Might even get that heater fixed.

There was another shot, off to his right, a sniper he suspected, firing at some poor soldier unlucky enough to catch the bullet. And again the furious return fire began and then died into an intermittent, halfhearted, reply. The sharp crackle of fire rising and falling in pitch and intensity. Nick bolted again, feeling the time was right, the attention of both sides focused elsewhere. They reached a bombed out building, could hear voices inside, a song, the ghostly tones drifting from a window. He paused, listening, moved by the sadness of the words.

 _Where have all the flowers gone?  
_ _Long time passing,  
_ _Where have all the flowers gone?  
_ _Long time ago.  
_ _Where have all the young mammals gone?  
_ _They're all in uniform!  
_ _Oh, when will you ever learn? Oh, when will you ever learn?_

Nick was overcome, though only for a moment, by the great and immense tragedy that surrounded him. The lives of hundreds of thousands changed forever, ruined forever. And there was nothing he could ever do to stop it, indeed was actively helping to make it worse. Was doing his very best to prolong the suffering for all.

There was a shuffle behind him, a paw on his arm, and a whisper in his ear. "Nick, we have to move."

He looked back at his partner, his friend, the one mammal on the planet who had stuck by him through thick and through thin. Could see then and there just how much he owed Finnick, how much he meant to him, and he nodded. Happy, more than, that he had convinced him to come along.

They moved again, slowly at first, the streets dragging by as they cautiously crossed each one. But they realized, after some time, that there had not been a sign of anyone for the last few blocks. The houses empty, the streets devoid of the markings of life. Nick checked his GPS again, shielding the glowing screen beneath the folds of his coat, and found that they were past the no-mammal's land. Long past, several hundred meters, and relief like he had not felt in some time washed over him.

But his night was not over, just as they had snuck through Arctician lines now they would have to do the same again. And so they watched, and waited, and waited and watched, all over again. Their senses perfectly aligned, Nick thanking the cosmos that he had brought along his partner, his friend.

* * *

 **Well, thats all for now, I hope you enjoyed it. Next time we will return to Judy and find out just a little bit more about how she is doing in the academy. Apparently she was there for 9 months in the movie? Is that true?**

 **All comments and feedback are welcome. Please do not hesitate to ask questions either. I usually answer them within 24 hours or so.**

 **Live well everyone!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello everyone! Welcome to chapter 15 of Saving Wilde!**

 **I appreciate everyone's patience with me, I am about a week later than I had wished to be. My life will be changing quite a bit over the next few months, and in preparing for those changes, I have had to neglect working on this story. Once things get settled again I should be able to resume my regular posting schedule. I will of course do my best to maintain it anyways, but there my be other times in the next two months when I miss a Friday.**

 **Of course it didn't help that I really struggled with this chapter. Not sure why but I simply couldn't put my ideas to paper, and when I did I didn't like them at all. I think I am relatively happy with it now, its "good enough". But hopefully the next will come a little more easily to me, more like the others in the past.**

 **Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed and liked the story so far, I have been blown away again and again by the reception I have received, and I have even had people checking up on me when I am late for an update! I am so glad you are all enjoying this so much. Its has been a pleasure interacting with all of you.**

 **Anyway, on to the story! I don't own any Disney Characters...**

 **Oh! There is one thing I have neglected. Way back in one of the early chapters I mentioned that this story had been originally inspired by a comic and that I had taken some dialogue for Chapter 4 directly from it. I couldn't remember which comic it was or who the artist was either. So about a week ago someone found it for me, thank you for that by the way, and I would be remiss in neglecting to the artist now.**

 **The artist is Kisu-no-hi on Tumbler and I have included a link to the comic below.**

tumblr: post/144815390059/

* * *

It had been three days. Three days of struggling to catch up on all he had missed. Digesting torrents of new information from all corners of Arctica. Of approving requests, sending orders, and debriefing operatives. Three days of recovery, from the trauma to his head, and the ambush. Three days of looking over his shoulder every time he left his apartment, wondering if Marat would be standing there, pistol in paw. Three days of trying to make sense of just what had happened in that city, that poor, dying city.

Their escape had been uneventful, even easy. They had stolen a car, one of the many they found, perhaps abandoned, perhaps not, and flown from the city as fast as prudence would allow. They had gone to Sergey's, the only one they felt they could trust, and only because they had his measure, knew the power money would have. He had taken them across the border, again in the dark of night, when the local militias retreated to their homes and their loved ones. They had given him more when he deposited them near the train station, nearly all they had left, a not inconsiderable sum, at least not for him, just to ensure his silence. It was unlikely to last forever, but any time at all was infinitely valuable. They were cut off from everything, their safety, and their sources, and they needed to reconnect, step back and assess.

They had taken the train the next morning, suffered through the unending ride back to Muskova, to that beautiful, metropolitan city. It had been easy, so easy that Nick didn't trust it, had spent the first 48 hours back in the city on high alert, tapping his every source to detect anything unusual. See the knife before it entered his back.

But there was nothing, things were as they always were, running smoothly, all thing considered. There were no new threats, no new developments, everything was in its right place.

And slowly, reluctantly, Nick slowed down from his fever pitch. He stopped personally monitoring the wires, stopped pestering his operatives to send him constant updates, stopped feeling like he was under siege. And he slept, drifting down, down, into the immense depths of a senseless, uninterruptible sleep.

When he awoke on the third day he felt as if a fox reborn. Bright eyed, and bushy tailed, ready to take on the world once again.

But, it was on the third day that things changed. Word came in from Veslov, the communications officer in the 64th that they had turned, that the Army was pivoting, was already a long way towards pivoting the bulk of their forces out of the city. Veslov was not explicit as to their intentions, be he didn't have to be, they were moving the 17th Guards out of the city along with the 109th Armored and concentrating them on the flanks.

Their intentions were obvious, they were going to begin an offensive to surround the city, cut if off from whatever supply lines the Ossetians still maintained, and allow it to wither on the vine. The Ossetians could not defeat the Arcticians in maneuver warfare. They were capable of an operational tempo far beyond what the Ossetians could maintain, and the flanks beyond the city were held by hardly more than 15,000 soldiers both east and west. A token force really, so much of their mammals devoted to holding off the siege.

It explained a lot, this redeployment. It explained the relative calm in the city while they visited, and it explained why their lines had been so easy to infiltrate.

They were going to crush the Ossetians, and that would be that. The Mammal's Republic of Ossetia would be another footnote in history. They were doomed.

The news had sent Nick again into action, verifying all that he received. He sent an alert to the embassy, a request for instructions. He knew what had to be done, but he needed the approvals, needed the staff the check the potential message for anything that they may not want shared. But perhaps more importantly, it gave him an excuse to sit back on his paws and wait, and gave him time to think.

He didn't want to help them, not really. The whole trip had left a bad taste in his mouth, from beginning to end. There was no trust there, not anymore, whatever there had been dying along with some many others in that ambush. But it was out of his paws now that the embassy was involved, and he knew what their answer would be.

But they surprised him. He was informed that the ambassador wanted a face to face meeting. Nick wasn't sure how to take that, he had never been asked for a meeting with Stevens before and that he wanted it now, over a simple and routine request made him wonder.

Stevens, nominally the section head of the Arctica station, had little time for him what with all the other things he was responsible for. Stevens let Nick do his job, kept him informed, and he kept of out Nick's way.

But this was different. He could feel it as he sat in the waiting room outside of the ambassador's office. There was a nervous tension in the embassy. The hallways were quiet and the staff quickly moved between offices without saying a word, eyes cast downwards. He had picked up on it immediately, moved his mind to a state of readiness usually reserved only for the Director back home. There had been a death amongst the staff – unexpected and deeply regretted. The death itself was of no consequence to him personally, but the mood of the embassy oppressed him, and heightened his sense of impending dread.

He reflexively checked the email on his phone. Scrolled through the dozens still sitting in his inbox, read but yet to be filed away. He had check it only a few minutes ago and there would be nothing new. He had finally sorted through everything that had come in during his brief absence only the day before. Hundreds of emails, most requiring his immediate attention. He hit refresh, and his inbox populated with a few more. The second one caught his eye, his bi weekly update on the ZPD Academy. It was a simple email, containing only the list of cadets in a certain class ordered by their class rank. Judy Hopps was number two. It had amazed him at first, seeing her in that position for the first time more than two months ago. He had hardly expected her to climb past the halfway point. But slowly, surely, every other week, he had watched her climb the ladder.

It was admirable, the example she was setting. Smashing down the barriers thrown in her way. Admirable… He sighed and put away his phone. He wasn't sure why he still cared so much. She had been an interesting diversion for a time, but that was months ago and many things were different. He had considered ending the notification, telling his source to stop sending them to him. Reasoning that he didn't really care anymore. She was doing well, and he was happy for her, but it didn't really matter. She was just a rabbit he had met upon his journey through life, nothing more. She was different, certainly, but not special, at least not to him, despite the fact that he couldn't seem to bring himself to forget her. And so the periodic updates felt intrusive, voyeuristic. Like he was watching some bizarre game show, rooting for one contestant to outdo the others. But he hadn't stopped them, his curiosity far more powerful than his shame.

He took out his phone again, and returned to the email, scanning the list of the other cadets. There was nothing much to say about the rest of the list, though he pondered the leopard, Opher, who had remained in the top spot of the class since the first time he had received an update. A curious name, Opher Pontecorvo, he had tried to place it before, but had been unable to determine its origin. He had meant, but never remembered, to look it up. He made to do so then, but decided against it. Decided that he didn't care because he noticed for the first time that the email was curiously full of information far beyond just the usual class ranking. There were grades for each cadet, notes from the instructors, precinct selections, and much more. He was amazed, he had never asked for so much information about any of them, not even Judy, and he wondered why he was suddenly given so much. At the bottom of the email though, was something that gave him pause. A single sentence separated by a few lines from the rest. It read, "Graduation date, Friday November 19th - Mayor Lionhart will be in attendance."

The graduation… he had been mulling the prospect over in his mind for some time. He knew it was coming, barring disaster. Remembered his promise to her all those months ago. Had even seriously considered keeping it at one point, though now, like with so many other things from that time, he was slowly trying to forget. But he couldn't, not that promise, it stuck with him like a bad memory. He hated to break a promise like that, personal, heartfelt, at the time anyway, and his intention to ignore it ate at him. Not too much, not enough to be distracting, but certainly so that it became the only thing he thought about any time that rabbit popped into his mind.

A thought floated gracefully through his mind, made him grin inwardly. He would ask Stevens for leave to go back to Zootopia in two weeks time to attend the graduation, then he would be back and he could put all of that behind. Closure, that is what he wanted, the thing that would finally put that whole chapter to rest. Yeah, that was it.

"Nicholas?" The assistant near the door brought him from his reverie. "He's free now." She looked at him curiously. They had never met before, new, Nick thought, a chinkara, and he had no doubt that she was wondering just who he was that he would go to meeting with an ambassador dressed in anything but his best. He smiled as he passed and entered the office.

"Ah! Nicholas, it is so good to see you well after your ordeal. Don't look so surprised, I do read your reports on occasion. Come have a seat, I want to hear about Ossetia, figure I might learn more from you than I do from the news. Oh! Would you like anything?" He gestured to a cabinet behind him. "I would offer you a _drink_ but I suppose it is a bit too early for that, and I am not much for it anyway. How about coffee then? I can have a pot ready in just a moment and to be honest I could use a cup myself this morning." Nick nodded. "Excellent! Just one second." He stood, he long tail quivering in anticipation, and opened the cabinet, revealing a well stocked liquor rack and coffee station.

Stevens was not much of a drinker. The cougar was easily overcome by spirits. He was no teetotaler either – such a thing was rare in the foreign service – but he partook a seldom as his career would allow. It was custom in Arctica, and many other northern countries to offer one to guests during business meetings, the hope being that it would warm them from their travels, however it was not expected that the offer be accepted or drunk. So he kept a large stock of it in his office, just in case, but it just usually sat there, collecting dust. On the other hand, he was a prolific coffee drinker, a real connoisseur, and he took immense pleasure in not only drinking the brew, but sharing it with everyone he knew. He was a mammal after Nick's own heart, in a way. Nick had a saying, that he had heard somewhere long ago: "This army doesn't move without its coffee." It had been true when he had been in the service. He and his fellow soldiers consumed prodigious amounts of the stuff, now matter how tepid or brackish. And he had maintained his love for it long after he had moved on to other things.

In a second, Nick could hear the bubbling of coffee maker and Stevens returned to his desk. "It'll be done in a moment. Let's get started while we wait. I read your report, or the preliminary report I suppose. Is the full thing almost done?"

"Yes sir, I submitted it this morning, and I have a hard copy right here." Nick produced a packet.

"Good, good, just put it there on my desk, I'll get to as soon as I can. Now, tell me what is going on with Ossetia."

"Well sir, as I have indicated the 64th is changing the axis of its offensi–"

"No, no, not what is going on right now. My staff will have a summary for me by the end of the day. No I want to know why it is you think that we shouldn't support them. You know as well as I do that if they manage to survive how advantageous it would be for us. That little country is a real money pit for for Arctica. Hell everything we have done so far has been in the interest of prolonging the conflict. I know you have been on it since before the coup even began. And the folks back home," he said, gesturing towards the window which happened to face in the direction of Zootopia, "are sold on this Nick, in large part because of the information _you_ provided them. So I find it difficult to understand the sudden change in attitude. You didn't make it clear in your report, the only one, by the way, which I have had to read since you came to this station."

"Sir, I am not saying that we should stop our support altogether, just that we should very carefully consider any more offers. Especially anything that goes farther than what we have already done. Not that we don't do that already of course. But, I believe that the things we pass to them don't all stay there. I think, sir, that the government is compromised in some fashion."

"Of course it's compromised! Their whole government is a complete clusterfuck, but that doesn't mean anything."

"No it doesn't sir, but I have reason to suspect that it is compromised at its very highest levels, and it wouldn't surprise me if word of the deal we just signed is already in the hands of the MSS."

"And what reason is that?"

Nick hesitated in answering, knew his case wasn't that strong, but he had to make it. The whole trip had entirely unsettled his confidence in the Ossetians. Information leaks, especially in a new nation trying to fight off invaders, was an inevitability. But Nick just had this feeling that the rot was pervasive. And Marat was the key.

"Sir," Nick sighed, not relishing the task ahead, "in my meeting with the Prime Minister and his staff I met a rabbit named Marat Alexeev who I thought to be a close friend and advisor to Daniil, but I am not so sure anymore that the information I had about his past is accurate. There are a number of discrepancies that I can't make sense of, a large number sir. Further, my primary contact with the Ossetians, Sergey Vasiliev, had never even heard of the rabbit before the coup. As far as he could tell, he was just an opportunist riding Daniil's coattails, but I suspect there is more to it than that. Things just don't tie together well with him."

"So you think we should cool off our support to the Ossetians because of this rabbit?" The Ambassador's eyes narrowed. "Do you also think he had something to do with the ambush?"

The question was a test, and Nick saw through it immediately. Stevens wanted to know just how deeply Nick was concerned about this rabbit and Nick wanted to be honest.

"No, I don't think so. It just wouldn't make any sense for them to try in kill either myself or Finnick. Believe me when I say I have thought about it, but I just can't come up with a reason for it, what would he gain?"

Stevens smiled. "What if you are right about him, but he is far more aware of your operations than you know? He might have wider responsibilities than just Ossetia, just like _you._ Though maybe he thinks you're dead now too. You are getting good at that it seems."

"Yes I'd… considered that too." And so he had, but beyond his own only half considered suspicions he had nothing in that line. Marat, or a rabbit like him, was nowhere to be found in the ZIA's dossiers of MSS operatives. At least not the ones he had access to, and he was sure he had access to most.

Stevens stood up and returned to his drink cabinet pouring a cup for each of them. "Nick, we obviously haven't worked together for very long. But when you were reassigned to this station I had a meeting with the Director about you, just so I had an idea of who they were sending me. He said something very interesting in that meeting: he told me to trust your intuition. So I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt here. If you think this Marat is a problem for us, then I will trust you, and I will take that into account in our planning. _But,_ we are supporting Ossetia, not only do I think it's the right thing to do for us, but so does the Director and the Intelligence Committee. And I have word from the PM's staff that so does he. I didn't just send you to Ossetia to get that deal signed on a whim, it had approvals all the way up to the top. We will be supporting them until we can't anymore Nick. At least in the near term. But I will see if I can't find out anything about Mr. Alexeev myself, I might have access to some things you don't after all." He handed Nick the coffee and sat back at his desk. "Now, there is a lot more we have to discuss and time is short, so let's get on with it."

"But sir I–"

Stevens held up his paw. "Nicholas, I appreciate your recommendations. As I said, we will will take them into account. But our course is set for now. I would recommend that, if you are really so concerned, that you bring me something more concrete than just a hunch and feeling. I cannot go to Intelligence Committee and tell them that I disobeyed their orders based on one of your hunches. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, I do." Nick replied, and he took a sip of his coffee, already disappointed with the audience.

* * *

"Halt, Police!"

She had yelled it, at the top of her lungs, for the third time, and it had much the same effect as the others. The suspect kept running as fast as he could, the massive elephant rocking the ground with each of his massive strides.

"I said… Halt!"

She hadn't timed the scream well, it ruined the rhythm of her breathing, made it far harder to keep up her pace. She began to pant. The elephant was fast, deceptively so. When she had been assigned to take him down she had been apprehensive because of the relative difference in sizes, cursed her own luck that she would have this trainer for one of her final assessments, but she had reasoned that at the very least he wouldn't be too fast, and that would give her options. But, oh, how she was wrong. The elephant had taken off light a grey streak and left her in his dust. She was fast too, extremely so, but his targets long strides carried him so far so quickly that it was difficult for her to keep up.

She threw a glance back over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glance of her partner for this exercise, Opher. The Leopard was no slouch himself though and she found him just behind her. He yelled, in between breaths, "Judy– I'll tackle– you cuff 'im!"

"Ok!" was all she could manage in reply, but it didn't matter, he would have leapt even if she had said nothing. And then Opher was on the elephant's back, struggling mightily to throw him off balance. There was a hitch in the elephant's step, a slight reduction in pace, but it was not enough, he had used his trunk as a counterweight to steady himself and then as a cudgel, whipping it around behind himself into Opher's head and neck. Opher tolerated to first blow, winced at the second, ducked a third, and then took the fourth directly on the nose and he tumbled from the elephant's back.

Judy just managed to dodge her falling partner, skidded to a halt, yelled at him to ask if he was alright, and then leapt back as he shot up and raced after their target, yelling after her not to let him get away, blood, bright red, streaming from his nose. She followed, quickly overtook him, and then assessed the situation. There wasn't much she could do, the elephant weighed many tonnes to her several kilograms, it would be impossible for her to take him down as she was, and even if she did there was an excellent chance she would be crushed in the fall. But she had to do something. She looked back at Opher, obviously in pain, and clearly tiring. She had to do something.

She eyed the elephant before her, tried to think of something, anything, she could do to send him tumbling. It would be difficult to send him off balance, but there was a point of no return, his own weight would mean that there would be no recovery before a terrible crash to earth. He would probably spring back up in the event, elephants were powerful mammals, but it would be too late, they would be on top of him. It would be all about speed. She wracked her brain.

Sudden clarity. It could work. It was all about the feet. It could work! "Opher!" she yelled. "You get one arm… I will get the other!" He looked back at her, puzzled, but she didn't await a reply.

It was all about the feet.

She flew ahead, closer and closer to those pounding feet. Watched the stride, found the pattern and then swung wide, far off to the left. She looked back, picked the moment and then shot back, slamming herself bodily into the left foot of her target just as it reached the height of its rearward arc. It wasn't much, but as the foot came back forwards, it caught just behind the ankle of the right, and the elephant soared through the air, all balance long lost. He came down heavily, bouncing, and then tumbling as he once again hit the ground. Once, twice he rolled, still stunned by the sudden crash, and then judy was on his back, had his left arm cuffed in the blink of an eye and using the other cuff dragged his arm across his back screaming. "Opher, the right!"

Opher, who had been standing just a meter away, dumbfounded, sprang into action, cuffed the right, and they brought the two free cuffs together in the middle.

There was silence in the aftermath, no one moved or spoke a word until Opher said, "Holy shit, Hopps, I'm impressed." The solitary voice was loud in the quiet arena, and Judy didn't reply. Simply stared down at the prostrate elephant, still unbelieving at what she had just done.

And then, finally, after a long, pregnant, moment, a whistle blew. And the incredulous voice of the instructor could be heard shouting, "Good job you two, help him up and get off the field!"

This they did. Though it was probably far more fair to say that their charge had simply regained his wits and helped himself.

The returned to the start, watched the next set charge off, and the next too, indeed they watched the rest of the class have their turn. Everyone caught their target, though perhaps no one's capture had been quite as spectacular. A part of Judy had desired some sort of validation of how well she had done beyond what she had already received. But none came, and while it hurt, the lack of recognition, the pain was soon forgotten as she watched the rest of her class have their try.

And it certainly didn't ruin her mood. She was still beside herself at what she had accomplished. That a 2 kilogram rabbit could have taken down an elephant that weighed more than 5,000 was something she never before would have considered. And that, if nothing that had come before it, certainly proved that she belonged at the academy.

But then, she reminded herself, she had already proved that, over the last six months. She was no longer the same rabbit she had been back then, naive, vulnerable, in far over her head. She had risen to each occasion as they came and had passed every test put before her. And while at first she had most decidedly been the odd one out amongst the other cadets, she had been accepted, wholeheartedly, after they had finished their riot training. She didn't need to prove her worth to anyone, they already knew it.

"So, Judy, that was pretty crazy huh?" Opher asked them as they walked back towards their barracks. They had a short time before their next test.

"Yeah, I can't believe I wasn't crushed."

"Just lucky, I guess," he replied, shooting her a playful glance.

"Eh, probably not so much." And she returned the look.

"We are almost done here. Crazy to think about right? It went by so fast."

"Ah, yeah." Her ears drooped, along with the rest of her face. It had been weighing on her for some time, the inevitable conclusion of her time at the Academy. She was excited, of course, but she looked forward to their graduation not with an inconsiderable amount of apprehension.

She was finally coming into her own at the Academy, understood the ebb and flow of training, the mood of the instructors and other students. She was excelling in that environment, had come to realize that it was exactly what she wanted it to be, and she didn't want to leave that. She was comfortable there. Everything made sense. And she didn't have any particular desire to be thrust out into the world again where she just didn't. But on the other paw, in just two weeks she would be sent off to be a police officer, the thing she had always wanted most in her life, and there was no amount of apprehension, no matter how great, that would divert her from that course. Not now that she was on the cusp.

"Actually, Opher, I can't wait."

He smiled. He had been watching her, long used to her moments of self reflection when she would fall silent for a few heartbeats longer than might have otherwise been normal.

"Good. Neither can I."

* * *

 **Well that is all for now, I hope it didn't feel too rough.**

 **As always, all feedback and comments are welcome and indeed encouraged, even the negative ones. I have had some great chats with some of my readers and it is always interesting to find out what parts of my chapters different people zero in on. Just remember to sign in before you do, I can't respond to guests!**

 **As for my update schedule I think that for the rest of this month I should be returning, more or less, to business as usual, but April will be spotty. Just so you all know.**

 **Live well!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello everyone! I bring to you the next chapter of Saving Wilde!**

 **I know its a day late, but my editor insisted I do some rewriting before I posted and I wasn't able to finish it until this morning. Doing that meant that this is late, but I think I was worth it since it resulted in some significant improvements to the story.**

 **The next update should be, more or less, on time, but I can tell you for certain that the next after that will not be. As I explained before I am being temporarily relocated by my company and I am moving mid month!**

 **Thanks to everyone who had read, commented, left feedback, tolerated my being late lately, and everything else. I appreciate all of you.**

 **I don't own any Disney Characters**

* * *

"You ready?"

The response came slow, hesitant. She didn't want to ruin the post finals high by viewing her results. Not that they would be bad, certainly not. She had done well on just about everything, she knew it. But "just about" wasn't everything. Driving still gave her trouble, the big steering wheels in the cruisers made it difficult for her to react quickly, even with their excellent power steering they were still designed for mammals far larger than her, just like everything else in the ZPD. But like with all other things, there too she had managed. It was not whether or not she had failed that caused her such anxiety, it was whether or not she had finally toppled Opher from his place atop the class.

He had sat at the top of the classes weekly rankings, ever since it had first been released at the end of their first month in the Academy. He had never mentioned it, or, at least, he had never been the one to bring it up. He almost seemed embarrassed by the ranking, and he shied from any sort of conversation that brought it up. It was as if he felt bad for beating everyone. It was a sentiment that Judy simply didn't understand. She had always been competitive ever since she was a kit, especially when it came to her older siblings – driven to be the best at everything she tried. She was never the strongest, nor perhaps even the smartest. But while there were times she might fail, it was never from a lack of resolve or motivation to try. While she was never one to gloat, she was certainly proud of everything she had done. And indeed, she had much to be proud of.

But Opher was different. That was another reason why she liked him so much. Ever since she had first met the leopard, she had liked him. He didn't judge her, look down on her or scoff at what she wanted. Tell her how unusual it was for a rabbit to leave their burrow. All the things she had heard throughout her life, time and time again.

She had asked about it once. About why it was that he had never even mentioned how unusual she was, why he had always simply accepted her. He had smiled, shrugged, and then told her the reason was simple. He had once been small and vulnerable, when he was young, the target of many a schoolyard bully. Judy, in some ways, reminded him of that time. There was an important distinction however: she remained unbowed by all the doubt, he hadn't been that strong.

It had been hard to believe, was still hard to believe, that Opher had ever been anything but as he was. Strong, confident, and frustratingly good at everything he put his mind to.

She had spent much of her time at the academy judging her performance on his own. Struggling mightily to keep just a pace behind him. She had bested him at times, she knew this. In most of their classes, even in some of their physical training, but on the whole Opher seemed untouchable.

"C'mon Hopps, open it, it's like tearing off a bandaid."

"That's easy for you to say. You already know that you are at the top of the list."

"Hah, maybe, maybe not, you did damn good in our finals. You won't know until you open it."

Judy looked back down at the large orange envelope that lay before her on the common room table, her name printed in large black letters across the front. She was nervous, her placement in the class rankings had wide ramifications on her career. Do well, and she might even have the chance at selecting which precinct she was placed, do poorly and the course of her life would no longer be grasped so tightly in her paws.

She sighed, recognizing that she couldn't sit there staring at the envelope forever. What was done was done. She would have to live with the results, whatever they were. She picked up the envelope, undid the clasp and eased the contents from their container. There wasn't much inside – a dossier, her visage staring up at her from the past, smiling and happy, and a transcript of all she had done at the Academy, every class and exercise, and the grades she had received for each. She had done well, overall, though early on her physical scores had been abysmal. She read each grade, slowly moving through the transcript, her anxiety replaced by the warm glow of satisfaction. Before her was a record of how far she had come in the six short months at the Academy, and that record pleased her.

She came to the end of the transcript, where the class ranking was listed and saw, in large letters, her place amongst her peers. "Second" it read. She felt a slight pang of disappointment. She had worked so hard to beat Opher, but she hadn't quite done it. She knew she couldn't always be the best, but she had hoped.

"So how'd you do?" Opher asked, looking at her from over the top of his own transcript.

"Good... very good." She said, almost reluctant to share with him her results.

"See? I told you you would be fine. What's your rank?"

"You first."

"First," he said, with a look that said that the result was exactly what he expected.

"Second," she forced out, her disappointment felt more keenly now that she was vocalizing its catalyst

"Wow, Hopps! Damn, you did good! I told you, you would be fine. You were second in the rankings the last time they were published. You had nothing to worry about." He smiled at her, and it almost made her feel better, normal again. But she was annoyed, and decided she wanted to make him work just a little harder.

"I wanted to beat you." She gave him a resentful look, peering at him over her own transcript.

"Yeah, I know. Honestly I think I just barely held you off. You still did good though."

"You think so?" She asked, perking up, a sudden desire to compare results overcoming her. "You don't even know what I scored. Can I see your results? I wanna know how close I was."

"No!" he replied, almost playfully. "We aren't supposed to share them anyways."

"Oh, c'mon Opher, we have been sharing our grades since we met each other. I just wanna know, just want to see where you did better. Here, you can look at mine." She gave her most disarming smile and, neatening the small stack, she offered it to him, a hopeful look in her eyes.

He looked at the offered papers skeptically, placing his own upon the table between, them and took took the offered papers without a word, scanning the pages.

"Well, can I look at yours now?"

"I never agreed to that," he replied with a slight shake of his head.

"Opher!" she groused, "That's not fair. That was the deal!"

"Sorry, Hopps, I have to keep _some_ secrets."

She pouted at him, searching his face, quite taken back that he would trick her like this. "Give me my stuff back then."

"I haven't finished looking yet," he said, returning to her transcript.

She looked at him, scandalized. Amazed at the way he was acting. She looked at his transcript now lying by his side on the table, apparently forgotten, and an idea formulated in her mind.

She threw herself at the manuscript, snatching the papers and flew across the common area to her own personal room. Throwing the bolt on the door, she had to restrain herself from scattering the stolen documents across the floor as she searched for the top page. The one that displayed his final score. And then came Opher, pounding upon her door.

"Hopps!" His voice sounded different, unfamiliar, angry. "I am serious, give them back!."

"No!" she called back through the door,but her resolve was faltering, she had never seen him angry before. Frustrated certainly, but not angry, and not with her.

She turned her attention to his packet, the dossier, his picture, smiling up at her just like her own, and she paused. She wasn't going to read it, she wasn't interested in violating his trust like that, even if he _was_ being a jerk. With a sigh Judy turned to open the door, ready to face whatever Opher had in store for her. She wasn't so sure she deserved it, but she would take whatever came.

"I'm sorry, Opher." Standing in her door entry way, Judy looked her friend in the eyes. "I didn't read it."

After a few, agonizing moments, his frown slowly melted into a smile. "It's fine Judy, I was just giving you a hard time. I went a little too far. You can read it. I barely squeaked out a victory you know. The early scores dragged you down, but overall you did very well."

She looked up at him, trying to read his face, see if he was toying with her. There seemed to be no game in his eyes however, so she turned her attention to his transcript. There was silence between them as she read, but at each moment her eyes grew wider and wider until she exclaimed, "Darnit Opher! I was so close! Lookit this." She pointed to a spot on the page. "You are _so_ lucky all of this only lasted six months. I've had better grades than you for ages!"

"Yes, Hopps," he said, smiling benignly down upon her. "I think that I am."

* * *

It was a beautiful day in Zootopia, though cold. The enormously expensive and extensive weather modification maintained around the city allowed the city center to experience the four seasons, though in a muted and cursory form. That suited Nick fine, he was still in his winter coat, warm and comfortable, and the very idea of having to spend any sort of time in the heat maintained in other parts of the city caused him to pant. There was no snow, what little the city received would not arrive for perhaps another month, but it was cold, and while there was green grass still in abundance, it, along with everything else, was just a little greyer.

Nick was dressed in a black, slim fitting suit, along with black Ray Burns in the modern style. Rare attire in his line of work, it made him look a bit too much like a 'G Mammal'. Yet he enjoyed the outfit regardless, felt he looked good in it, and while he may not have realized it, he carried himself with just a little more distinction. His back straighter, shoulders back, head held high.

On this day, though, he did not stand out. In fact he fit in quite well with the various other dignitaries attending the graduation of the most recent class of ZPD cadets. Various city leaders were in attendance: Allen Hendershot, head of the city zoning board, Victoria Sheehan, the commissioner of the Department of Transportation, and even Rabnawaz Akbar, chairmammal of the city council. Truly, some of the real movers and shakers in the City.

Normally, the graduation of a cadet class was not such a momentous event. Indeed it was rather mundane, cadets graduated all the time, usually about two or three classes a year, though sometimes more depending on need. The department had more than 37,000 officers, and more than 15,000 other employees. Usually graduations were attended by the family of the cadets and other members of the Department, but rarely more than that.

This one was different however. Mayor Lionheart's much touted Mammal Inclusion Initiative had a major impact upon the city. All sorts of positions around the city had been opened up to species who might not have ever considered them. Not immediately, it was a slow process, small steps all along the way to minimize the disruption and keep the criticism to a minimum. But there had been many victories some easy, like opening the DMV to mammals other than sloths, and some hard, like passing laws that prevented lending institutions from discriminating based upon species. Though that last had been a hard fight. For instance: banks run by elephants had long refused to deal with mice, but it was more than time for that sort of thing to be over. Lionhart had, for his whole career, made it a point to fight to make Zootopian society as inclusive as he could. He was, after all, the first predator to gain a seat on the City Council, and had even been the chairmammal for three years before running for mayor.

He took his position as the de facto representative of the predator community seriously, though it was not an easy balance to maintain. He and other predators had to be perfect to be accepted into the greater prey community. It was all about respectability politics. Predators all had to work extra hard to maintain the same sort of respectability that prey were afforded as a matter of course, and one slip up could ruin it for everyone. A prey species robs a bank or assaults someone? Well, they are a criminal, but not representative of the rest of their species or the wider prey community. A predator did the same thing? Well…

It was a difficult balance, but Lionheart was a master.

Still, despite his long focus on improving conditions for predators, when Lionhart said that "Zootopia was a city where anyone could be anything," he meant it. Predator and prey were to be as equal as he could make them.

That was why this cadet class was so important. That was why it had turned into such a big event, with press, various city dignitaries, politicians, and a large public attendance. It would even be televised, though that was mostly because Lionhart planned to give a speech. This class was the very first trial run of the next phase of Lionheart's policies. Opening up the ZPD to non-traditional species. The ZPD had long been the domain of the larger species, both predator and prey, and as a result, there had long been complaints that it was poorly equipped to deal with many of the challenges it faced in such a large and diverse city. For instance, there were no small rodent officers, and so Little Rodentia was poorly served, and had, more than a century ago when the ZPD was stood up, created its own extra-judicial policing force, which had often worked closely with the ZPD in small mammal matters, but was not controlled by the city, and thus had very little oversight. Nor were large large swaths of the animal kingdom represented in its ranks, which meant that officers were often met with significant and palpable distrust from some of the more insular communities that existed within the city, like that of the rabbits.

Judy Hopps would be the first of many new mammals brought on the force to make it more representative of the community it served, to help the existing ZPD better deal with and interact with the innumerable communities that existed all around the city, each often carrying with them their own unique understandings of what it meant to live in the city, and their place in it.

From Lionheart's perspective, Nick knew, Judy's admittance into the academy had been a wild success. And whether she was aware of it or not, she had done much to silence the critics, both within and without the ZPD, and there had been considerable critics.

But that also meant that, knowingly or not, Judy would be, for now and in the future, just as much of a representative of her respective community as Lionhart was of predators. Her career would be followed closely, whether she liked it or not.

Part of Nick felt bad for her in that regard. She had become an unwitting pawn in Lionheart's efforts to improve species relations in the City. A noble goal certainly, but it meant that Judy would live under intense scrutiny, and be subject to the same double standards that predators were. She would live with a target on her back at all times. It was exhausting to even consider. For someone like Nick, who had spent his whole life doing his best not to be noticed by society at large, it was a horrifying prospect. He found himself immensely curious how she would handle it. There was no question that she could be a capable officer, both his personal experience with her and her final placement in class was evidence of that. But she would be judged far harsher than any normal officer, by superiors who, as far as Nick understood it, were not happy to have her on, and she would have to deal with that right from the get-go.

"Welcome to the real world, Judy," Nick said under his breath as he handed his pass to the mammal in the booth. She would experience the same sort of thing he and so many others like him had throughout their lives. A society that was judgemental and unforgiving. He could only imagine how shocking it would be for her. He at least had the advantage that he had grown up in that environment, had learned to survive and even thrive in it. But she hadn't, she had grown up amongst a loving family that was just like her, and she was in for a rude awakening.

Making his way through the entranceway, a simple awning really, he passed numerous mammals, some handing out programs, ushers directing attendees to their seating, numerous attendees all all conversing in groups around the entrance, and came back out into the sun casting his gaze around the gathering.

There were a lot of seats, far more than he had expected, perhaps hundreds, though far less than half were yet filled. He was quite early. He wanted to get good seating, though not too good. He was still conflicted on whether or not he wanted to be seen by Judy. She was a part of his life that he desperately wanted to put behind him, and he was afraid that any actual contact might only bring up things in him he had worked hard to put to rest.

He made his way down one of the aisles, glancing around at the empty seats, looking for the perfect compromise between being able to see the goings on up front while remaining as inconspicuous as possible. Then he saw the perfect one, about halfway back on the right, next to a horse with red fur. He didn't want to stand out afterall, and he made his his way towards the seat.

"Sir!" Nick looked back towards the voice of a rapidly approaching kangaroo. "Sir do you know where your seat is?"

"Uh, I was just gonna grab one over there," he replied, pointing towards his desired seat.

"I'm sorry sir, but its designated seating today, there are just so many guests. Let me see your ticket." Offering out her paw expectantly as Nick fumbled in his pockets for the ticket, annoyed that he had now potentially lost the ability to control the terms of his meeting Judy again. He handed the kangaroo the ticket. "Oh, you are over here sir, follow me!" And off she went, hopping down the aisles, Nick following at a safe distance, careful to avoid her tree trunk of a tail.

Nick was directed to his seat, in the middle, on the left, about halfway back, nearly the direct mirror of the seat he had picked for himself. He let out a relieved sigh as he took his place. He was still in control, so he was happy. He sat, and waited, watching the lawn around him fill up with mammals.

Then, with about a half hour until things began, there was a commotion back at the entrance, a din that seemed to grown in fits and starts at each moment.

The rabbits had arrived. A tremendous number, they entered the lawn as if a great grey, brown, and white tide, cacophonous and inexorable. They flowed around him, on all side, the ushers frantically trying to direct them all to their seats. Nick found himself sitting amongst them, a lone fox in a sea of rabbits. He had heard their would be rabbit, delegation of some sort, and certainly at least a portion of Judy's family would be in attendance, but he hadn't expected this. Hundreds of the tiny mammals were everywhere. Though, as he considered it further, he realized it shouldn't have surprised him at all, the Hopp's burrow alone had been packed full them, and this event, whatever the larger implications for Zootopian society, was an important one for their community.

Their presence didn't please him however. Not because he had anything against their being there, he fully recognized the important ramifications of Judy's graduation, well, at least the ones that presented themselves to him, but rather because he now stood out like a sore thumb. It would be hard for him to avoid notice, and as he looked around further his alarm only deepened as he realized that he was literally the only mammal in the whole section that wasn't a rabbit. "Shit, shit, shit, this just isn't good," he thought to himself as he did his best to become lost amongst the sea of ears, slouching down so he was just peaking over the rows ahead of him. The cadets had not arrived yet, but there was the tiny risk that he might be recognized by one of her family.

He glanced at the rabbits beside him, on his right, a brown and white rabbit he didn't recognized, who shrunk back upon noticing his gaze. He shook his head in annoyance and redirected his gaze to the rabbit on his left, and then, he froze. Sitting beside him was Martha, Judy's younger sister. She wasn't paying any attention to him, instead focused on her phone, but now the risk of being recognized had risen exponentially. He had reached a decision point, but he knew that there was really only one he could make. He stood and made his way down the row of seats, stepping gingerly so as not to panic any of the rabbits who sat all around him. He would would stand in back. It was much safer, he could see everything, and he wouldn't have to sit near a bunch of rabbits. He had been on the periphery of their grouping and it was probably for the best that he wasn't going to stick around.

He found a spot in the back, sitting atop a temporary railing. It was unfortunate that he couldn't have stayed seated next to Martha, he liked her quite a bit. But it wouldn't do to be discovered, not now. Why did that matter to him? After all, it was just Martha, a 16 year old rabbit. Why did the thought of her recognizing him make the fur on his tail bristle so?

It was the lie, the lie that everything else he had with them was based upon. He had always known that it was that single lie that could bring everything else tumbling down. It had been expedient at the time because it helped to build trust between he and the Hopps'. If he was a cop then he certainly couldn't be all bad. But he was, and he certainly wasn't a cop. Judy would have found him out by now. There was just no way she couldn't have.

Nevertheless, despite always knowing it was just a matter of time before he was discovered, it pained him to know that Judy probably didn't want to see him again. She had always made it clear just how important thing like trust were to her. They were everything, and he knew, from the get go that he was violating that trust every time they spoke. The very foundation of their mutual understanding had been built upon his being a cop, and what did they have now that that had proven to be a lie? It had been stupid, he realized, to believe he could simply traipse back into her life and expect things to be just as they had been when he had left all those months ago.

He was such a fool. Why had he lied like that? Why had he let it go so far? He asked these things and more, but he wasn't willing to articulate the answers. He knew how painful they would be. They, nevertheless, flooded his mind entirely unbidden. He had a very different mindset back then. He had been injured, scared, doing everything he could to survive and continue his mission. None of them had mattered at the time. Every rabbit at the burrow was a tool to be used, a risk to be mitigated, and lying like he had was simply a matter of course. It was his life in a microcosm. Use those around him to get what he wanted, regardless of the cost.

But this time it had turned out quite differently, and he had ended up with quite a bit more than he had bargained for. He had never expected to find a connection with one of the rabbits, especially not one that he seemed so unable to shake. At the time of their parting they had shared a deep affection for one another. He found himself wishing he had picked something else. It could have been any other lie and things would still be just fine between them. But, he knew, the damage was already long done, there was nothing that could fix it now. Things were beyond his control and he hated it. He had thought he had a choice, but it was clear that that had never been the case.

He wouldn't speak to Judy. He would stay, keep his promise, the one thing he hadn't lied about, but she wouldn't see him.

"Sir, you need to return to your seat, things will be starting soon." An usher interrupted his thoughts.

He looked at the usher, a gopher, sized him up, and then disregarded him, annoyed that his train of thought had been so interrupted.

"Sir!"

"I am fine just where I am, I will not sit with a bunch of fucking _rabbits."_ The usher recoiled at his words, and indeed, so did Nick. Everything had gone wrong that day, everything, but treating a random mammal in such a way, especially when they were just trying to do their job, simply would not do. "Ah, I apologize," he said as he hopped off the railing, bowing down just slightly so he was nearly at eye level with the gopher, "I am having a bad day, I didn't mean to snap at you. Please let me stay here. I was sat with the rabbits and I couldn't take their staring any longer." It took a little more convincing, but soon the usher was off to police other attendees, still looking a little disheveled from Nick's outburst. He kicked himself as the gopher left. Only Judy Hopps could make him act this way. That damn bunny was going to be the death of him.

There was applause then, and Nick looked up just in time to see as Mayor Lionheart strode onto the stage.

* * *

"Hopps, Judy" The call rang out. Judy rushed to take her place in the procession. She and the other cadets were lined in the rotunda of the City Hall. As each of their name was called, they would take their place according to their class rank, and then marched out too the lawn and up onto the stage.

She was nervous, very much so. The whole week had been nothing but an intense emotional rollercoaster. She was getting attention that was neither wanted nor expected. She had done three separate interviews with different news organizations, met the governor of Bunnyborough, and there were rumors that the Mayor would personally congratulate her on her graduation and her placement in the class. It was all so exciting, and yet so unexpected. She had never before considered that what she did had any impact beyond herself and her immediate family, but oh how wrong she was. She had visited her family for a week after finishing up at the Academy; a short vacation of sorts, before she would go off once again into the city. She had been unable to go anywhere without rabbits she had never met approaching her and congratulating her on her success.

It was embarrassing, really, her sudden popularity. She hadn't really done anything, not yet, she hadn't even officially been inducted into the ZPD as an officer, even if in that short week she had been called Officer Hopps hundreds, if not thousands of times by both her family and complete strangers. It was partly her own fault, of course, she had been the one to accept the request from the local Bunnyborough paper, the Daily Burrow, after which she found herself to be a local celebrity. The others were probably her fault too, though the pushy reporters had done all they could to guilt her into accepting. "Oh, but you gave the Daily Burrow a chance to ask you questions, how is this fair? The world wants to get to know you Ms. Hopps!" Still, it was a mistake, and she dreaded the idea of watching the ZNN interview scheduled for that very night.

To make things worse, her involuntary notoriety hadn't gone unnoticed by her classmates. Most of the ribbing was good natured, but not all, the silent glares from a few were painful and only served to heighten her embarrassment.

She had decided after doing the ZNN spot that she would do no more however, it all felt very much like everyone was betting upon a seed before it had even sprouted, and she knew more than enough about farming to know that seeds, now matter how promising, were never something to take for granted.

"You ok, Hopps? You look a little troubled."

"I'm fine, Opher, just… nervous."

"Oh come on, Hopps, you should be used to the attention by now." He grinned down at her.

She took it all back. All those things that had come as a result of those interviews, all the attention from rabbits and other mammals everywhere she went, it was all nothing in comparison to this. The thing that made what she had done so terrible was that Opher seemed to be happy taking shots at her at every opening. It didn't seem malicious, no, not quite, it was apparent though that he just couldn't tell when he was going too far, and he had been doing just that for at least the last two days. She knew what she had done was silly and naive, and understood if she got some flak for it from Opher. It was only fair, doing the interviews _was_ really dumb, and there was no doubt she would be hearing about them for a long time. But, she didn't want to hear it from him anymore, the one other cadet that she really, truly looked up too. It just made it all so much worse. She had thoroughly disappointed herself as it was, and that disappointment only deepened the more time she spent with him.

So she scoffed at him, and looked away, determined not to give him the pleasure of seeing how much it bothered her.

"Oh c'mon. Hopps, I was _just_ joking."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but declined to respond any further. She was content to let him feel guilty, maybe then he would get the hint.

"Attention cadets!" The call rang out, and all conversation died away immediately. "It's time to go out there, you best look sharp, the Mayor is here to see you." The officer speaking looked directly at Judy as he said the last, and smirked. But she didn't notice the look, too focused was she on what was about to come to pay heed to the barbs of an officer she didn't know, and would likely never see again. Then, barely a moment after the echo's of the call ceased their dancing about the massive rotunda, the doors opened, and the cold midwinter daylight flooded in.

They marched out in double file, down the capitol steps, and towards the back of the stage.

It was cold, though not painfully so. Nevertheless Judy had never been one to enjoy a brisk chill, and she was more than tired of it by the time they reached the small set of stairs that led up onto the stage.

From where she stood, she could hear Lionheart speechifying. Judy had always liked him, though she had to admit that she was not one to closely follow politics. Still, his message, even if not directed specifically a her, a lowly bunny living far from the City, had resonated deeply. "Zootopia, where anyone can be anything!" That was the slogan he had coined during his first campaign, and while that had only been three years ago, the message had stuck in her mind.

It had not been enough, to get her to where she was, no that could be attributed to the efforts of-

His face exploded into her mind, fiery red and grinning, his green eyes flashing in pleasure.

"Nick." The name slipped from her lips unbidden, and she glance around in embarrassment hoping no one had heard.

He had not crossed her mind in months, and now, suddenly, he filled it pushing out all else. Waves of excitement and frustration washed over her and many, many questions too. Where was he at that moment? Did he keep his promise? Was he really so false from tip to tail? A charlatan through and through?

The last two questions seemed to hang in her mind and she briefly felt her mood dip. But she refused to let him have such control over her. Maybe, at one point her life, perhaps one that wasn't so long ago, she might have let the uncertainty surrounding him to affect her so. Throw off her equilibrium entirely. But she wasn't that Judy anymore. Hadn't been for a long time, and wasn't about to let his presence, or lack there of, ruin the most important event in her entire life. The one thing she had spent years striving for.

But, then, if he was there, smiling up at her from the crowd, that would be great too. If he were there, the day would just be… perfect.

She shook her head, annoyed at how easily the thought of him seemed to send her off kilter. It had been months since she had even considered him. She simply hadn't had time for it at the Academy, and when she dwelt upon it it only seemed to drag her down.

She had long given up hope that he would show himself. That much was clear. He wasn't an officer, he wasn't an anything, he was just a fox that had taken advantage of her kindness. But then she reminded herself that this wasn't entirely true. Whatever else he was, he had been the one to give her that final push needed to follow through on all she had done. Without him, it may not have turned out as well as it all had. While she wasn't really interested in seeing him again, she would hold some parts of her memories for him close to her heart. He might have been a sneaky conniving fox, but even foxes like that have their good sides. Perhaps she was lucky that he had shown her his.

Applause flooded over her. All the cadets were urged forward and up onto the stage, where hundreds of mammals cheered and yelled. While Judy had no way of telling if it were true, she certainly felt like they were all cheering just for her. In that moment, there was no doubt.

She had made it.

* * *

"See ya, Judy. Things will be better tomorrow!"

"Yeah, Clawhauser, I'll see you tomorrow," Judy replied as she left the station, feeling as though she never wished to return. It had been a tough day. Harder than she could ever have imagined.

She was aware that being a cop often meant that she saw little but the worst in her fellow mammals. The only time she was truly needed was when someone was in trouble, so even in just her first two months on the job Judy had been through the ringer. She, along with her partner, a veteran officer named Pete, had responded to domestic violence, bar fights, a shooting – though luckily no one died – and she had even been berated more than once while giving out speeding tickets. But all the training, all the videos and lectures simply hadn't prepared her for what she had seen that day.

The duo had responded to a car accident, a nasty one too, the vehicle had slammed into a bridge abutment. It had been horrific, and even as she thought about the scene as her feet carried her towards the subway station she had to hold back waves a nausea. She hadn't been so strong then, at the scene of the accident. She had voided her guts then, all the while Pete patted her back back, whispering, "There, there, Hopps, it'll pass, you'll be alright." She hadn't cried, was too strong for that these days, but she had never imagined that a mammal could be torn into such a shape, and that had just been too much.

The sickness had passed, though not before the paramedics arrived and began extricating the poor creature from the mangled wreck. She had forced herself to watch, hoping it would make her stronger, desensitize her to such horrors, and she supposed that it would, but even so, just the memory of it sent her reeling. She had been amazed at the time, listening to the paramedics work, they seemed so unphased, simply went about their jobs, though with no particular sense of urgency. And then, as if things couldn't get any worse, one of them said, "Oh, shit, there's kit in here."

Judy felt tears well up in her eyes as she sat in the rumbling subway car. No one had made it out of that crash, neither the lion, nor his daughter. Dead instantly, Pete assured her, felt no pain. But knowing that didn't make things any better. Both were still dead, and she could only imagine what they had left behind.

Judy was strong, immensely so, she had prepared herself for so much, but as she closed the door of her tiny efficiency apartment, she couldn't help but cry. So she did, letting everything she had held back throughout the day well up inside her and flow forth in large wet tears and pitiful sobs.

She didn't want to do that again, not ever, the whole day too horrifying for her to ever wish for a repeat. She considered many things as she lay there on her bed. Life, family, and her career. It was a dangerous one, no doubt. But she had known that going in, though perhaps only on a sort of distant, intellectual level. It just wasn't _real_ to her, not in the way it had been driven home to her as she watched an utterly destroyed mammal and their kit being zipped up into black body bags and carted off. That could be her one day. She had seen all the statistics, officers were far more likely to be injured on the road than the average mammal. That that was true was simply a virtue of the fact that they tended to spend far more time on the road than the average mammal, but still, that wasn't the only statistic where police officers ended up worse off than the citizens they were protecting.

She began to scroll through the pictures on her phone, hoping to find some sort of solace in the images of happier times. She had taken a lot over the past few months, wanting to keep a record of all the new things she experienced. She passed by a selfie taken with Clawhauser, another of her and Pete sitting in their cruiser, both beaming at the camera, and then one of both her and Opher standing in front of the steps of Precinct One. She settled upon a selfie she had taken with Martha two months ago at her graduation – her favorite one from that day.

She had been so happy then, riding the high of all she had accomplished back at the academy. She had been happy, but so naive, and she wondered if the Judy of two months ago, or even the one from before the Academy would still do all of this if she knew what she was in for. The pain, stress, and the exhaustion.

Yes, she probably would, Judy knew. Despite everything she couldn't help but chuckle, the sound barely penetrating the silence of her room. She was hard headed, always had been. It was both a blessing and a curse. But she knew that the Judy of the past wouldn't have quit for the simple reason that the Judy of the present wasn't about to quit either. It had been a painful day, but she would get up the next and go to work all the stronger. She suddenly realized just how exhausted she was. It was barely 7:30 and yet she found herself hardly able to keep her eyes open. She decided it was for the best, to sleep, she would need it if she wanted to feel even halfway normal the next day.

She took one last look at the photo, thanking Martha for being there for her even when she wasn't, and then nearly dropped the phone. There was no movement, no sound aside from her rapidly beating heart. She brought the phone to her face as close as she could and still keep it in focus and stared at the photo, stupefied, unbelieving. For there, standing just a little way beyond she and her sister, wearing a dark suit with dark glasses perched atop his head, looking directly into the camera, was a deeply happy fox.

The only fox she knew.

Nicholas Wilde.

* * *

 **Well, that's all for now! As I said, the next chapter will be out more or less on time, so keep an eye out!**

 **And to preempt the question I know people will ask, the answer is: very soon.**

 **As always, questions and feedback, of any sort, are welcome. Love it or hate it, please don't hold back, I won't improve otherwise.**

 **That's all I have for now, l** **ive well!**

 **Also, I like how the email notification for this story reads:**

 **Saving Wilde**

 **Chapter 17: Chapter 16**

 **I really gotta fix that lol**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello everyone! I made it on time somehow! I am honestly surprised myself. Between working on packing up for my move and doing my taxes, I have been very busy.**

 **And the FM of the MiG-21 in DCS has received a much needed update, so... yes, I have been busy.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **I don't own any Disney charactrers! Or characters either!**

* * *

Judy had one hour to find what she was looking for. It was just barely enough time, but it was all she had been given, after months and months of effort. It was all she needed. Or so she hoped.

It had taken her three months to be granted access to this place – a large, seemlingly forgotten archive in one of the annexes attached the main precinct house in downtown Zootopia. The annex had been, long ago, part of the main station, though it had nothing of the spacious modern design that she was so used to. The hallways here were tall and narrow, making them seem only taller still. They were painted a dull, off-white which left them feeling sterile, and they clashed with the worn, sea-green linoleum floors.

It was a step back in time in many ways. The design reminding her of the old movies her father used to love. At time when police work was much different, and society too. It was a strange sort of realization, that hundred and thousands of officers had walked these halls in the 103 years since its construction, had lived and worked here for the greater good of the City, and done much to mold Zootopia into the place she knew. That wonderful city. That, along with the unrelenting silence combined to give the place a sanctified, hallowed air. And as she walked through the deserted halls she consciously made herself as inconspicuous as she possibly could so as not to disturb the shades of officers long past that not doubt still inhabited these halls. She almost regret disturbing the place, and indeed she would have never done so if she were not following an important lead.

It had been three months since she had noticed Nick Wilde in the picture on her phone. Three months of intense searching for him anywhere she could. She had found nothing at first. He was in no city database she could access. Not a single adult fox named Nicholas Wilde anywhere in the City or its suburbs and burrows, nor anyone else with the name Wilde, or Wild, or any other variation she could think of. He was nowhere to be found, a ghost or as good as, much the same as the ones that were said to roam the halls of this very annex. But he wasn't a ghost, he was real, she had seen him, heard him, felt him. He was just as real as she was, but he was hiding, and was somehow far better at it than she could ever have imagined.

She had tried many things to locate him. Had begged and borrowed and nearly stolen. She had spent weeks searching through Driver ID photos for his picture, reasoning that he had perhaps given her another false name. She had found nothing however, despite searching nearly 85% the foxes in the database. She had found a John Gibbon though, a journalist who wrote pieces for a magazine called the Zacobin. But he wasn't Nick.

Opher had been a big help throughout it all, had sat with her going through pictures, giving up some of his nights and a few of his weekends just to help his friend. He had even gotten his hands on the list of attendees for their graduation, but Nick had not been on it, and neither had any other fox. But he existed, she had proof, and it kept her going.

It was her partner Pete who provided the breakthrough she needed.

She had been frustrated, discouraged by her two months of fruitless searching when she had finally asked for his help. She had not wanted to ask at first, afraid he might disapprove of her unusual and likely improper search. Private citizens were just that, private, and without the proper approvals and warrants she was not allowed to snoop into their lives. But he answered her questions without hesitation.

"Pete," she said to him one day while they were on highway duty, "is it possible for someone's city records to have been expunged from the database? Like, just gone completely without a trace?"

"Everything gone? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, there is no one even by the name I have in the database at all."

"Who you lookin' for."

"Ah, a, uh, fox I knew, a long time ago. A friend of mine. I wanted to look him up when I made it to the city, but I have looked everywhere and I can't find him."

"Well I doubt that your fox isn't in there somewhere. If he was ever a resident of this city he would be in the database. You sure you have the right name? Foxes ain't always known for their truthfulness you know. Like to play things close to their chest."

Yes, he had, though she had never really considered that the rest of the species might be the same way. "Yes, I mean, I think I do. He promised me that it was his real name."

"See what I am saying? He had to promise you. That's what you get with foxes. Tricky bastards. Damn good at what they do, but never take your eye off 'em or they'll disappear right from under your nose."

"What do foxes do exactly?"

"Anything, more or less. For the right price." And he smiled down upon her, his grin toothy and demeaning. She liked Pete, but she didn't like this about him. They way he talked down to her when he perceived she was being naive. She probably deserved it at times, still had much to learn, but she didn't deserve it then. She knew foxes, or this one fox at least. Knew that he wasn't all that bad, despite his tendency to lie. But the one time it really mattered, the one time she really cared about more than any other, he hadn't lied, he had been there. Even if the jerk had made her figure it out by looking at one of her pictures months after the fact.

"So if I have his real name, what then?"

"Well," he sighed, eyeing the radar speed meter that sat atop the dashboard, "well, I can only think of one other thing, I am sorry to say." Judy looked at him, unsettled by his tone, her apprehension rising with every moment he continued to pause. "He could be dead. Records of the deceased are removed from the database after five years unless they are related to any pending cases. They stay on there for 10 if they were related to any closed ones."

Judy's mouth hung open in disbelief. She had forgotten about that, hadn't even considered it. How the heck could she have forgotten that?! But then her wits caught up with her, and she knew why. Her graduation was only four months ago, even if he had died in the interim, Frith forbid, he would still be in the database. "No, no, Pete, I saw him a lot less than five years ago. He would still be in there." She found the thought of his death an unpleasant one, and she was eager to move on from the topic.

"Hmmm… then I don't know. But you said there was no one in there with his name at all, not even his last?"

"No, nothing."

"You sure, Hopps?" She nodded vehemently, and he looked up at the ceiling of the cruiser scratching his chin in thought. "Well, maybe his parents records have been moved to the archives then. Maybe you can find them, if you have the right name."

And for the second time in barely a minute, Judy Hopps felt like an idiot.

"Hello, excuse me… Hello!" Judy blinked. Torn from her reverie, she looked about, searching for the source of the interruption. "No, no, down here!" A tiny voice squeaked from her feet. Judy looked down and saw perhaps the smallest mammal she had ever seen, some sort of shrew, sitting behind an equally tiny desk. "Can I help you?" The minute creature called up at her.

"Uh, yes," she almost yelled down at the poor thing behind the desk, "I have a request number for the records of someone who passed away and has been removed from the Citizen ID System." She handed the shrew the flimsy slip with the number she had been given, finally understanding why it seemed to have been printed upon a wafer, and the shrew examined it. Hmming and hawing while Judy squinted down at the tiny creature's desk, searching for a name. She always hated not knowing someone's name, felt it put her at a disadvantage. Her own was emblazoned across her breast for the whole world to see. But she found nothing, and resigned herself to standing in silence while the shrew typed away at her tiny computer.

"Ok, it looks like you have the proper approvals. What shelf and box number?"

Judy blinked. She had nothing of the sort, hadn't even realized she would need such a thing. She wracked her brain for anything that she had come across in her search that might give her a clue. But she came up with nothing, and realized that even if she had run across that information at some point it would have been meaningless to her at the time. "I… I don't know." She finally admitted, ears reddening in embarrassment.

She shrew looked up at her for a brief moment, exasperation clear on her face, and then said, "How did you get the approvals if you didn't know that?"

"I don't know, I just asked I guess."

The shrew scoffed, and began to grumble loudly about the degradation of the department as she continued to type into her computer. Judy stood there before the diminutive archivist for a long moment, wondering if she was about the be turned away, frustrated that she had somehow not been informed that she needed that sort of information before she got to the archives.

Finally, after much grousing, the shrew looked back up at Judy and, letting out a tired sigh, asked, "Ok, is this for a criminal investigation?"

"Well, no, not really…" She trailed off, unsure as to why that would matter. She had all the proper approvals. The shrew stared up at her, her patience clearly waning, and Judy felt an urge to at least offer her something, _anything_ that might move this along. "I am almost positive that they do not have criminal records." That seemed to satisfy the shrew who returned to tapping away at her computer.

"What's the name?"

"Wilde."

"That first or last?"

"Last!"

"First?"

Judy hesitated. She wasn't positive that this Wilde was who she was looking for. There were a lot of problems with the databases maintained by the ZPD. The first being of course that there had never been a centralized, ground up effort to create an easily accessible info bank that officers could access when they needed it. Instead databases had been created by different parts of the department based upon need and designed to meet different requirements, which meant that she had to, on any given day, access two or three different systems just to do basic things like file reports or book a perp. The second problem was that because of the hodge podge of systems, it was nearly impossible to determine just how complete and comprehensive they were.

The Deceased Archive was no different. She could, at any point in time, log into her computer, access the database, and get at least some basic information about whomever she wished. But, only if they had been moved into the database in the last ten years, give or take. Anything earlier and she was lucky if their name would at least show up in the database. If she wasn't, well, she would have to get approval to look in the archive for the citizen in question herself. And that was a process entirely divorced from the approval process required to actually access the record once found.

In this case, she had been lucky, she had found a couple of Wildes in one of the databases, but only the names and the date of death, nothing more. She had taken a guess, and had picked the name of the most recently deceased Wilde she could find. A one Catherine F. Wilde.

"You do know the first name right?" the shrew pressed.

"Yes, its Catherine." For the first time, Judy saw the little shrew smile as she continued to type into her computer.

"Alright," she pointed to the large printer that sat against the wall click clacking away, "get the printout, and take it to Frank in the next room. He'll take you downstairs."

Relief flooded over Judy, who had still been unsure that she would get any help at all from this tiny, ornery shrew. But as she grabbed the indicated printout, she thanked her all the same and stepped around the desk and into the next room.

"Excuse me," she said to the bear sitting behind a large desk, who hadn't looked up when she entered. He still didn't look up after she spoke, but instead pointed to a small machine sitting on the edge of his desk which had a slot apparently intended for the paper she held. She inserted the paper into the machine and it clicked and whirred as it slowly swallowed the printout. It made a small noise when it finished, a strange click that repeated three or four times before the device finally fell silent. A moment passed, Judy glancing between the bear and the device, unsure as to what was supposed to happen next.

"Well," the bear said in a deep resonating voice that made Judy jump, "it looks like everything is in order, follow me." He stood, gesturing as he did so, and lumbered to the back of the office without so much as giving her a second glance. Judy followed him out of the office into more featureless hallways, turns seeming to pass by in rapid succession until they found themselves at the top of a set of stairs that stretched off in either direction. The bear, for the first time, looked at her with tired eyes and said, "We must go down." She nodded and followed him down.

Judy counted the flights as they ticked by, six, seven, eight. A landing at the end of each pair with a small sign indicating what was contained on each floor. DMV records, old case files dating back for more than 40 years, and then another indicating that the case files contained therein were even more ancient. They piqued her interest, the signs, and the promised contents of each floor. What she wouldn't give to have the chance to take a look at a case file from 70 years ago. If only just to see how things were done so long ago. She lingered at each landing, eyeing the door into each floor. She could see the row upon row of shelves containing vast amounts of old paperwork through the windows. But she never paused too long, lest were she to annoy the bear. But he paid her no mind, never admonished her even when she found herself an entire two flights above him. He waited though, on the next landing, until she caught up. "Here we are," he said and he reached out and opened the door.

The archive smelled strange, of aged paper and dust. It was not an unpleasant smell, vaguely reminiscent of the City Library located only a few blocks away from the Precinct One station. But strange nonetheless, as if the records contained on this floor experienced a rather advanced stage of decay. The place smelling rotten and old. They proceeded down the central aisle, though she could see that there were others off to her left and right, the whole space illuminated in the cold, impersonal glow of hundreds of fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling. She noticed, as they made their way deep into the archive, that there was more than one group of lights out, blanketing whole sections of the vast space in permeable darkness.

The bear took a left, a right, went on for another while, and then another left. They stopped, near a large section of shelves all seemingly mashed together, each with a large steel wheel on the end. The bear took hold of the wheel on a self labeled E 301.C85 and began to turn it slowly. The whole group of selves split at the point at which she stood. The four to her right moving together. Suddenly, there was space enough to for both her and the bear to proceed down the newly created aisle. The bear, Frank she remembered, his name popping into her head unbidden, made his way down the aisle, Judy close in tow, and stopped about halfway down. He reached up, pulled a box from the upper most shelf, slung it under his arm, and motioned again for her to follow. He lead her back towards the entrance but instead of heading back to the stairwell he led her to a small space behind some of the shelves that contained a pair of desks. Far too large for her, but they would do. He placed the box on the closest desk and then turned and left. Judy watched him go, unsure if she was supposed to follow. She decided against it, and instead called out to him in thanks. The bear, just before he disappeared, raised a paw over his shoulder in acknowledgement and turned the corner.

Judy climbed up upon chair, and then the table, finding the chair too low for her to properly examine the box and its contents. She removed the lid, found dozens and dozens of manilla folders tightly packed inside, each with a name upon the tab. Wilch, Wilcheck, Wilcox, Wilcut, Wild… she paused, looking closely at the name tab. She knew the name wasn't spelled right, but she had seen enough clerical errors in her few months on the force to know that it would not do to ignore the possibility that Catherine's records were filed away there. She removed the folder from the box, placed it on the table and took a deep breath. She could feel herself shaking, her heart beating in her chest. She had spent months on this hunt, had put so much of herself into its every moment that she couldn't help but to be excited that she might finally have her first clue. She steadied herself, took a deep breath, and opened the flap.

A pictured started up at her, a muskrat. A one Theodor Wild. Dead 40 years or more. The black and white ID photo only serving to prove his age. He had been a old creature when the photo was taken, had clearly seen better days. But he was smiling, the grayscale of the picture serving to make the glint in his eyes shine out off the page. Everything was contained there, everything about him. Where he lived, who his family was, where he had come from and just how he did. He was a citizen of the City, the documents proudly exclaimed, an important part of Zootopian society. But now he was gone. Judy felt an immense sadness then. Sadness that someone who was so alive a mere forty years ago, the evidence of which sat before her, was now no longer. And one of the only remaining bits of evidence of that fact sat locked away beneath a tired old annex attached to the ZPD headquarters. She wished then too to find this Mr. Wild's family and give them this record.

It frightened her to think that one day she might die and be forgotten in this city, and then end up just like this muskrat. She had grown up in a place that was so different. Where they still had pictures of the family lining the burrow walls going on a hundred years back and more. And through those pictures, she had always felt that she could stay connected to the dearly departed. That they could be there even when they weren't. And she had grown up knowing that one day she too would be in one of those pictures. But would that still be the case now that she had left and gone so far away? Would her family remember her if she never went back?

It had been a long time since she had felt this way. Totally unconnected to where she had come from. As if they were all a million kilometers away, fading fast.

Her phone buzzed, a text from her aunt who lived in the city, a timely reminder that her family was not quite as far off as they seemed, and she looked back down at the late Mr. Theodore. An idea came to her then, and she snapped a picture of the photo. "At least know, Mr. Wild, that there is someone out there who remembers you." She knew that she had no idea if he was remembered or not by anyone, but that didn't matter. The way she saw it, the more the merrier. And she hoped that, someday, some mammal might stumble upon her own record, and choose to remember it too.

She composed herself then, knew she had more searching to do, and made to close the folder. But she stopped, looking back down at its contents. She realized that Mr. Wild wasn't the only one whose file was kept in that folder. She moved Theo's aside, found his wife, Isabella, staring up at her too, snapped another picture, just to complete the pair, and then search through the rest of the contents. There weren't many Wilds, perhaps only five or six more, and all part of this one Muskrat family. But she liked that they were all kept together, a small part of their memory all kept in one place.

Finally, she closed the folder, returned it to the box, and began searching through the names again. Wilda, Widdle, Wilder… Judy paused for the second time, though this time in consternation. She hadn't skipped any, and yet Wilde should have come before Wilder. It wasn't there! She dug frantically into the box, pushing the folders aside hoping that perhaps the one she was looking for might have simply been squished down into the bottom. It was not however and she sat back holding in a frustrated scream. All the things she had done in the past three months, all of it, had culminated in this moment. All the frustrations, the lost free time, the lost sleep, all the emotional capital that had poured into finding even just one record that might lead her to Nicholas Wilde, it was all nothing. It had meant nothing, because his records were nowhere to be found. There were paths that apparently lead to him, seemingly overgrown and unkempt, but there was nothing at the end of them. He was a ghost, a fiery red ghost, who existed only for her.

"Dammit, Nick." She let out, pitiful and sad. Her intense aversion to swearing momentarily forgotten. "Damnit." She wanted to lash out, scream and yell, throw the files all around. But she wouldn't do that, not any of it. It would be unprofessional, and perhaps more importantly, in that moment, tucked behind what should have been the last folder in the box, she saw what she had been looking for.

She reached out, afraid that she might be seeing things, and grasped the edge, pulling the folder carefully from its place. She laid it upon the desk, opened it, and there, before her, was the record of Catherine Wilde.

There was no picture, though she could see where it had once been, a little corner of it still attached to the staple that would have kept it affixed to the packet. And there there were pages missing, this one only had two pages instead of the usual four that seemed to be standard for these old records. But it had everything she wanted. Birth date, July 18th, 1978, and death date, February 5th, 2012. It had her marital status at the time of her death, single, and it even had her last address. Another place that might provide a valuable lead. But most importantly. In a row down near the bottom of the second page was a line called 'Survived By:' and upon the line next to it, typed up in black ink, it read 'Wilde, Nicholas Piberius (12)' and beneath the line was printed an ID number.

She stared at the number beside his name, knew exactly what it meant, and any elation she felt quickly drained from body. His mother died when he was 12, and as far as she could tell there were no other surviving relatives. She looked at the next record in the folder, hoping against hope that the terrible feeling rising within her was nothing. But she found Piberius Wilde next, died August 10th, 2007, Wilde, Catherine F. listed as his wife at the time of his death, and Nick his son.

Judy let out a ragged breath as the crushing reality hit her. Snippets of their time together came flooding back. The caginess when talking about his past, the vague answers when she insisted on hearing of his family. He was an orphan since he was twelve, and he had no family to tell her about. The horror of it all seemed to overwhelm her, and tears began to form in her eyes. She struggled living away from her family at times. To be away from the safety and stability that her huge family provided . But that safety net was only a few hours away by train and and she spoke with her family over the phone almost every day. They were not far off. Not far off at all. But Nick… had none of that. No one he could turn to when he was in trouble. There was only him, and it had been that way since he was twelve. She couldn't imagine it, living like that, disconnected, alone...

There was noise, far off behind her, deep inside the archive, and suddenly all of Judy's senses were screaming at her to leave. She took more pictures, of both Piberius and Catherine's records, and then she hurried back out into the stairwell and back up from where she came.

* * *

It was a boring afternoon for Nick Wilde, sitting alone in Finnick's Muskovian apartment reviewing reports and returns from his various cells scattered all over Arctica. They had turned an analyst who worked in the MSS just a few days before – money is a powerful motivator – and he was still trying to sort through the first record dump.

He would have normally parcelled the task out to the analysts he had nominally under his command, but Ambassador Stevens was apparently misusing them for Frith knows what and so they were all unavailable. Even Jackie, Finnick's girlfriend, was basically chained to her desk working through _something_. He had sicked Finnick on her at about noon time, but he hadn't heard back yet. And so he sat, doing the work of an analyst, instead of properly managing his operation.

That was alright though, every once in awhile it was nice to take a step back from the bigger picture and get lost in the details. And the details were certainly illuminating. They had suddenly found themselves with an eye into a small part of the MSS. It was often a frustrating job, trying to get someone working for the Arctician intelligence services to give them anything useful. Stark contrast to the often horribly porous nature of the ZIA and FIB. But this made it all worth it.

An email notification popped up in the bottom right paw of his computer screen and he opened it. There was no message, only the subject line that read, "I'm going to call you." His phone rang a moment later. An incoming call from a number he didn't recognize. He looked back at the email, noted the sender. It had come from a ZIA secured server. He answered the call.

"Nick?"

"Oh, fuck, Frank, you gotta be less cryptic with this shit. You nearly gave me a heart attack." Frank had, for the last 30 years, been under the employ of the ZIA in addition to his ZPD job as an archivist. His unique position allowed him ready access to nearly any record the city kept, and it meant that the ZIA, which legally had no ability to operate directly in Zootopia, could get access to information that they would otherwise have to get from the FIB, the Federal Investigation Bureau. And the Fibbers weren't always the most cooperative. Nick had, on more than one occasion, gone crawling on his hands and knees to some of the agents there with requests of one kind or another. And on more than one occasion he had been turned away.

"You told me to just call whenever I had something important to tell you."

"Yes, I did, but…" he paused, knowing that to argue further was silly. "Ok, what's up Frank?"

"Someone came into the archive today and wanted to see your parent's records"

"Who?"

"A cop, that rabbit cop, you heard of her?"

Judy? The name rang out in his mind. The hell was she snooping around in the archives for? "You sure she was looking for my parent's records?"

"Definitely. She put your mother's name on the form officers have to sign to request information," the bear said.

Shit, the hell did she want? He was annoyed, suddenly feeling as though he was being hunted. But what harm could she really do? She so far away, and he deep behind the protection of the ZIA?

"What the heck did you do, Wilde?"

"Nothing, and it doesn't matter anyway, I removed all the important stuff. You know why she was looking for them?"

"No idea. I hardly spoke to her."

"Ok, ok." He had already known the answer before he asked it, but his mind was racing, trying to formulate some sort of explanation. He hadn't broken any laws, so he certainly couldn't be under an investigation. At least he didn't think he had. But even if he was, he had used his usual cover when he had last been there for the graduation, they wouldn't wouldn't be searching for _him,_ Nicholas Wilde, but instead a fox that _might_ have looked similar to him named Logan Ahanu, and even that name hadn't appeared in the guest list.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, I think she is harmless," Nick replied.

"Well, she is on your trail. And I don't know that you removed everything from those records."

"What do you mean?"

"Well your citizen ID number is still on 'em."

"Shit," Nick groaned. He had been sure he had checked everything.

"In hindsight it probably would have been better to simply remove the whole thing, but–"

"Yeah, well you wouldn't fucking let me, Frank!" Nick snapped at the bear, who had a propensity to state the obvious at the worst times. Nick had met Frank about five years ago when he had first been assigned to the counterespionage division located in Zootopia. Frank had proven invaluable to Nick on more than one occasion, helping he and the others he worked with and for to skirt the laws surrounding access to public records. But he could be a stubborn, droll helper, and it was at times like these that he always managed to get under Nick's fur.

"Well, that would have been illegal."

"So was–" Nick caught himself, not willing to travel down such a well beaten path with the bear. "Frank, just tell me if she makes any further inquiries about me, ok?"

"Alright Nick, I'll keep an eye out."

"Oh and Frank…" he paused, considering how best to utilize this peculiar resource. "Could you tell me what other records are still out there on me? I think'd like to nip this one in the bud if I can."

"Will do, Nick. I'll have that for you in a day or two."

"Ok, Frank, I appreciate it. Say hi to Bethany for me."

* * *

"Opher! When is your shift done? I need your help!"

"Uh…" stammered out the surprised Leopard, "not for three more hours. Whats up?"

"Shoot, I really need your help, I have found something really important. You really can't get off?" she said, giving him her best pitiful pleading look.

"What kind of question is that, Judy?" he replied, laughing. "How am I going to get off of my shift? My partner'll kill me if I skip out on the post patrol paperwork." He looked around conspiratorially, checking to see that no one was nearby, before leaning in and saying in a voice just above a whisper, a massive grin upon his muzzle, "We haven't done it all week. Sergeant Frangmeyer is going to kill us if we don't finish it today."

"Opher! You can't be putting that stuff off! I can't believe you guys are so behind. Do you need any help?"

"Shhhh, shh, shh, shh, Judy, Judy, quiet! Don't yell," he admonished, looking around, "don't yell. Ok, I know, you don't have to tell me. But I have been helping you every night this week, I just haven't had time."

"Opher you shouldn't be helping me instead of getting your work done!"

"I know, I know, but it'll be all set in a little bit. And no! We don't need any help!" He preempted her attempt to interrupt again and flashed her another grin. "Don't worry, we'll be fine. I just, ya know, I can't help ya. Not now. After though? Sure, I'll text you when I am done."

"Ok, Opher…"

"Why you looking at me like that Hopps?"

"'Cause you're gonna get yourself in trouble. You can't just not file your reports."

"Judy, we got it, I promise you." He looked at his watch. "I gotta go Hopps, those reports are calling name!" He laughed again as he strolled away down the hall. Judy simply watched him go, shaking her head.

It was strange to her, that Opher's partner, Officer Mingen, had let the filing go so long. She usually so diligent, an officer Judy aspired after. But it wasn't her problem, she had a trail to follow.

She reached her desk, on the second floor, closest to the stairwell and farthest from the windows. It wasn't such a bad spot, her proximity to the central spine of the building meant that no part of it was too far away, but there was such a constant flow of traffic going up and down the stairs, and not to mention the incessant dinging of the elevator, that it was easy for her to become distracted. Normally, if she had paperwork, or had to complete some other task that required deep concentration, she would go elsewhere and find a quiet spot somewhere in the station where she wouldn't be disturbed. And this case was no different, though in addition to the hustle and bustle that constantly surrounded her desk, she didn't want the other officers to know she was doing so much searching for a fox. The search wasn't against the rules, she was breaking no law, but it might raise questions that she didn't have any interest in answering.

She disconnected her laptop from its dock, bundled it into its carrying bag, and set off to the lobby. "Clawhauser!" she called out as she reached the expansive atrium, "can you tell me what meeting rooms are unoccupied for the rest of the day?"

"Hey Judy, what are you doing here? I thought it was your day off? You know what Bogo said about overtime: 'Don't even think about it!' hah ha!" The paunchy cheetah let out a bubbly laugh as watched her approach. "Oh wait!" he suddenly exclaimed before she could come up with an excuse, "You are doing more _research_ aren't you?" He winked, the grin he almost perpetually carried upon his muzzle growing just a little wider.

Judy groaned inwardly at the question. She liked Clawhauser, quite a bit actually, but she didn't like that he knew so much about her extracurricular activities. It had been unavoidable on some level, but she had to admit that she was more than just a little embarrassed by her obsession with the red phantom who had exploded into her life only to disappear as quickly as as he came. But Clawhauser was such a resource, an invaluable trove of information and goodwill. Without him she never would have such wide ranging access to city records, both past and present. And it was he who had guided her through approvals process to gain access to the archives. He had his paws in everything, and she supposed that everyone was simply lucky that Clawhauser didn't seem to have a single malicious bone in his entire body. "Yes, Clawhauser," she finally said through her teeth when she was barely a meter away from his desk at the center of the lobby, "I found something important today, so I gotta go follow up on it."

"Ooooh, what did you find?" He asked, suddenly leaning over his desk so he could come as close to her as possible, the think creaking under his weight. "He's real, right? I don't think you were clear on that last time." He tapped his chin in thought, not quite making eye contact. "The city has a lot of records, and I can get you a lot of them, but they have to be about a real mammal! Hah hah!"

"Yes, he is real," Judy replied, chuckling despite her mood, "very real. Oh! Do you know what portion of the juvenile records have been digitized?"

"Oh, no, I don't," he said, sounding disappointed, "probably anything within the last 40 years by this point though. There has been big push on those in the last few years."

She could hardly contain her excitement, it was exactly what she wanted to hear. "Oh my gods, I gotta go," the words spilled out in a torrent, "Which conference rooms are free?!"

"Ok, ok, just hold on," Clawhauser soothed, checking his computer. "You can do this too ya know, you just have to check the calendar on your email... looks like Kerik is open for the rest of the day, I can book it for you."

"You're the best Clawhauser! I'll let you know what I find!" She wasted no time in hurrying to the empty conference room, named after a distinguished police chief from the past, just like every conference room in the whole station. She found the room as empty as advertized, and quickly made herself at home, setting up her laptop atop the large table in the center of the room and jacking up the closest chair so it was a comfortable height.

She hesitated before entering his name into the search bar of the juvenile archives, suddenly afraid of what she might find, or perhaps even worse, might not. But the moment she typed the first letter her overwhelming curiosity reasserted itself and in barely a moment she was looking at a list of records all related to the object of her search, Wild, Nicholas P. She scanned through the list, eyes wide at the veritable trove of records before. The fact that they had been so easily discovered once she knew what she was looking for not lost amongst her excitement. She clicked on the first one that caught her eye.

It was an arrest record, mostly redacted, expunged upon his turning 18, even the booking picture missing, but the paw prints were still there, in black ink. She sat staring at them for several minutes, trying to imagine what his had looked like, so long ago. It was silly though, she eventually realized, she had never quite explored his paws, certainly not to the extent she had wished at the time... Her mind ground to a halt as feelings that had lain dormant for nearly a year began again to well up inside her. She had liked him, then, and in a way that was in more than just the normal "like" someone might feel towards an acquaintance, or coworker, or indeed even a friend. It has gone much deeper than that, much deeper.

She shook her head, trying in vain to free herself from the thoughts that seemed to be invading her head. She wasn't interested in him like that, not anymore. Hadn't been for a very long time. Not since she had come to a better understanding of who he really was. She looked back at the computer, suddenly wondering why she had even embarked upon this crusade. He was nothing to her, or… mostly nothing. Just a fox that had given her a leg up at her time in need, but once she got past that what was there really? She had had a crush on him, she was big enough to admit that, but it hadn't been reciprocated, not really. Rather it was more like she had been used, manipulated, though to what purpose she still wasn't sure. He had never really liked her, or at least not to the same extent that she had _liked_ him, but instead he played along and profited from it, somehow.

It was strange, now that she had the object of her desire before her she suddenly realized that she didn't really want it. She didn't really want to pry into his life, or his history. And she had no doubt he wouldn't have wanted for her to do so either. She knew very well just how private he was. She had thought, at one point, that she had made it past his walls, discovered a least a part of who he really was. But her time at the Academy and the on the force had made it painfully clear that while she may have made it past one wall, she was, in truth, simply being presented with another. She was just too naive at the time to recognize it. And lately she had been too preoccupied with the tiny glimpse she had captured of him to even consider what she really wanted out of all of this.

She hadn't considered it and she realized that she had no idea.

She backed out of the arrest record, all interest in what it contained quickly evaporating. She sat, staring at the list of records, not truly comprehending any of it, lost in thought, deeply unhappy.

She took out her phone and pulled up the graduation picture again, just as she had done dozens of times over the last few months, and gazed into his eyes. Trying, _hoping_ , that they would tell her something, anything. Anything about how he felt about her, what she was to him, who he really was, honest and true, no more lies.

But she saw nothing in those green eyes, just as she expected, and she reflexively hit the delete button. A little window appeared on the the screen with a question: 'Are you sure?' and the answer too.

No. She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure about anything.

She looked back up at the computer, at the list displayed upon the screen, wanted to close it, and forget about everything. But she couldn't, something else had caught her eye, and despite her every emotion demanding that she close the computer and forget all about Nick Wilde, she clicked on the link.

It was a set of records pertaining to his time at one of the the city orphanages, and then his trip around the foster care system. Every terrible detail laid down in the detached, clinical writing of some nameless case worker. And at the end of the file, a handwritten note, "Case # 12A-345278, ward of the state, Nicholas Wilde, to be removed from foster roles. Reason: Enlisting."

Judy wasn't sure about many things. About how good she was at being a cop, about how her family felt about her choice of career. About Nick Wilde, who he was, or what she meant to him. But she was sure of one thing, when it came to Nick at least, she was going to find out.

* * *

 **Thats all for now!**

 **Now, I know some of you might be wondering about the hints I have been dropping about the reunion in this chapter. Well, I had never originally planned on actually describing much of Judy's search for him. But between all the comments last time about how excited people were to read about some of it, and my own attempt touch briefly upon it ballooning into what you have just read, well...**

 **I think I can promise you though that it will be next time. Their orbits are rapidly intersecting.**

 **Just some housekeeping:**

 **I will be late with the next chapter, I have already started to write it, but I move in just a bit, and I will be busy getting things going at my new place for a while. It's just a temporary relocation for work, but I still do need to bring a number of essentials out with me. 4 months is quite a long time after all!**

 **So the chapter will be late. How late I am not sure yet. Might be a week, maybe a little more. I seem to be most productive in writing when I travel though, so I am hoping to keep the delays to a minimum. And, at the very least, know that you have much to look forward to. I just hope I can make it all worthwhile. :)**

 **By the way, I just wanted to thank all the people who commented last time with feedback on various aspects of this story. I have no illusions as to the quality of my writing, and so I always appreciate the opinions of those who have ideas on how I can improve.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **See you next time!**


	18. Chapter 18

**And here we are! Another chapter of Saving Wilde! And I think one of the longer ones too. nearly 15k words!**

 **I actually had this one done a little sooner than I expected, been busy, but I have had enough time to write, more or less, though obviously the two week thing has sort of gone out the window lately. I considered breaking this one up, but after what I did to you all last time, well, I just hope it doesn't drag too much. I realized I had a lot more to say than I had originally planned as I was going through it.**

 **Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!**

 **I don't own anything Disney.**

* * *

"Ya know, I am gonna miss this ol' place."

"Really?" asked Finnick. "You were just ranting about how much of a shit hole it was only 10 minutes ago."

"Well… yes, it is a shit hole, I stand by those comments, but it is our shit hole. Think of all the things we have accomplished here in the last three years Finnick. All the mischief we have managed, all the mammals we have turned, all the undermining of Artician interests – all from this little, shitty apartment. So what if the sink leaks, and there is black mold on the ceiling," he looked up at the large dark spot above them, "this place has been good to us. Very good. Just think Finnick, you finally got Jackie to sleep with you here! That has meaning Finnick! _Meaning_!" He shook his clenched paw before him to add emphasis as he gazed at his diminutive partner.

"This was not where I first convinced her to do that Nick," Finnick replied, unamused.

"Well, it's certainly where you got her to continue sleeping with you. And I for one, think that is the more important achievement. We have been through a lot here, for instance, just look at that spot over there," he pointed towards a corner of the room, "that was where you found me, dead drunk, after Liliya broke up with me."

"I thought you weren't dating."

"We weren't," Nick shot back, a dangerous gleam in his eye, "but…" he paused, his train of thought thoroughly derailed. "But… oh! And on this very couch is where that crazy reindeer doctor patched your ear back up after our successful foray into Ossetia."

"Successful? Ossetia fell barely two months later. We didn't do shit."

"Come now, Finnick, you know as well as I that it was never our goal to prop up that little place. Just to sow as much havoc as we could. And we did just that, Finnick, helped keep Ossetia in the fight months longer than anyone could have imagined. And we couldn't have done it without this place… It's the end of an era."

"I don't think it's quite over, Nick," Finnick replied surveying their pawiwork.

"Heh, no," a malicious grin spread across Nick's muzzle, "I suppose not."

It was not often that Nick had such an opportunity before him. The opportunity to 'poison the well', to deliberately feed multitudes of bad information to the MSS. Information which would lead to bad decisions and the ruination of more than one career, and might, if they were lucky, result in the deaths of many an enemy agent.

They were going to allow their apartment be discovered, long after they were gone of course, but it would be much at though they had never left. The equipment, computers, hard drives, cameras, radios, and ream upon ream of documentation would all be left there, just waiting to be discovered. And it would be, that was the whole idea. Someone, somewhere, would share the information, just so that there would be no doubt. They could not use any of the mammals they had turned to share the location with the powers that be, the one who shared the information would would be under immediate suspicion, and Nick had no doubt that more than one of their contacts would come clean with very little provocation. No, it had to be someone who had done long service for Arcticia, who had long been a loyal servant, someone beyond reproach. Well, they didn't have anyone quite like that available, sharing a secret like this wasn't something that would simply happen out of the blue. There had to be a context to it all. The means of acquiring this valuable tidbit had to make sense, could not be too easy.

Nick might not have had anyone like that available in Arcticia, but that wasn't to say they didn't exist. The ZIA, for all its faults, frustrating bureaucracy, inability to be quite as proficient an intelligence organization as the MSS, an almost schizophrenic approach to determining what was important and what its vision was, did have one thing going for it: It was a massive organization, and quite often, its parts were far greater than its sum. There were those in the ZIA who were excellent at what they did, who had contacts all over the world and could name which could be trusted and which couldn't, could even tell him who in the ZIA couldn't be trusted. Some of those supremely competent mammals were even in positions of power, a rare thing indeed. And sometimes, those great minds knew a good idea when they saw one, and threw their full support behind it.

It had been a plan hatched over a long night filled with booze and bad TV. One created with the understanding that Nick's time in Articia was already limited, his days there numbered. Stevens was gone, replaced when the old PM's government had fallen, and the new ambassador, an otter named Roger Ottersberg, had wanted to bring in his own prefered spymaster. That hadn't bothered Nick, his replacement was an excellent agent, and he had spent much of the three months ensuring the transition was as smooth as possible. He was going home, reassigned back to where he had been before he was returned to this frozen tundra, this white limbo.

Everything before the two of them, everything, from the spare hard drives that were arranged in stacks along the walls, down to even the crumpled up sheets of notepaper that lay beneath the couch was a carefully constructed lie. The MSS, whenever they were finally given the location of this apartment, would burst in and discover a treasure trove of fool's gold. It wasn't all false of course, a considerable amount of real information had to be included to lend credence to the overall picture, numerous useful contacts sacrificed so that the MSS might harm itself in its zealous efforts to make good on all that it would discover.

And that was the point, at the end of the day, to make the MSS destroy itself, even if only just. The treasure trove was a bomb, not the physical kind, but it would end the lives of so many jsut the same.

They had worked hard the to make it all believable, toiling away to connects dots of the vast web they were creating. It implicated dozens of officials all across the Artician government, created evidence that they were spies, and had been selling information to the ZIA. So too did it implicate Artician agents abroad, made it clear that so many were in fact double agents, talking out of both sides of the their mouths. And if everything went according to plan it would set the MSS back by months, perhaps even years as they purged the 'rot' in convulsions of fitful violence.

It was a coup de gras, a final, audacious act of a mammal who was determined to spit in the eye of his adversaries one last time before he was shuffled off into unbearable obscurity, and perhaps save himself from that very fate.

It wasn't so much that Nick wasn't excited to be reassigned to counterespionage back in Zootopia, it was perhaps what he was best at. It was simply that his last foray into that role had ended explosively, and he knew for a fact that his superiors had not forgotten his mistake. He had no doubt that his assignment back to Zootopia would involve him riding a desk until he was reassigned abroad again. Just a waystation on his journey through life.

The prospect of such inactivity was crushing. He hated being useless, doing nothing, and would have done much to avoid it. He'd even offered to work for his replacement in Arctica until they had found something else for him, but that request had been quickly denied. They needed him, they said, back in Zootopia. He didn't believe a word, but there was nothing he could do, and so he had thrown himself into what little work he had left, building this bomb, in particular.

"Are you done, Nick?"

"Finnick, I am being nostalgic, I want to remember this place, because I have no doubt that the next place we are sent wont be quite so nice."

"What do you mean we, Nick? I am not letting them send me anywhere, I have better things to do than manage this shit for the ZIA. Besides, Jackie has been back in Zootopia for four months already. I'm going home."

"It's too bad she isn't here for this. She would have loved to see it all come together."

"She helped us put it all together, Nick."

"Yes, but there is something magical about seeing it all together, ready to go, you know? Like, it almost makes me believe that this fucking plan might work."

"I hope you're right, Nick."

"They won't remember me, I don't think, it's the nature of the thing after all." He gestured around the room. "No one will, Finnick, but I'll be damned if I don't leave my mark."

* * *

"You remember what to say when we get in there right?"

"Yeah, I do…"

"Hopps," her partner, Detective Chambois, admonished, "you have to be assertive, you let the beaties think they are in control of the scene and we get nothing done. You're a detective now, don't let them walk all over you."

"I know, Ava, I know." Chambois gazed at Judy a moment longer, let out a small, bemused chuckle, and then opened the door to their unmarked cruiser and stepped out into the late afternoon sun, Judy following close upon her heels.

It was an apartment complex, not new, nor in the best part Sahara Square, but well maintained and quiet. The type of place that many a member of the middle class called home. 'Normal', is perhaps what it would have been called, a place entirely unremarkable, except for the fact that there were perhaps a dozen emergency service vehicles all surrounding the entrance. Their occupants, ranging from paramedics and firemammals to police all loitering around the entrance.

"Hey Chambois, Hopps," the tiger closest to the door called out to them as they approached, "'bout time you showed up!"

"Shut up, Bangale," Chambois shot back, grinning. Ava glance at Judy, caught her eye, and gave her a significant look before looking away.

"Bangale, what do we got?" Judy jumped in, the message from her partner clear.

"Well, nothing pretty. A body on the third floor," he replied, pointing off behind him in the general direction of the southern half of the building. "Looks bad. Sergeant Fangmeyer thinks there are signs of a struggle, or something, the poor bastard doesn't look happy she died."

"A she?" Judy asked, making a note on her notepad.

"Yeah, female fox."

"Thanks, Bangale, what's the number?"

"425."

"I thought you said third floor?"

"Yeah, the numbers are weird here, they consider the basement the first floor. Elevators are on the left once you get past the front desk."

"Great, thanks Bangale," Judy said as she entered the building.

"You did good, Hopps. You act like you know what you are doing and they will think you do."

"If only they knew how wrong they were."

"Ha hah! Fake it until you make it, rabbit!"

Fake it 'till you make it. It was phrase that Junior Detective Judy Hopps had heard hundreds of times since joining the force. A mantra repeated so often that at times it seemed as though it was the unofficial motto of the department.

So she had to pretend to be a detective for the day. A _full_ detective. Not the detective in training she truly was. It was a strange purgatory within the department, she technically had authority, or at least much more than she had when she was a normal patrol officer, and yet, everyone knew that, whatever her qualifications, she had no experience, and thus no one respected her. So she effectively had no authority, regardless of whatever her badge said. Her very title denoted that very state, _Junior Detective_. It was the same thing printed upon the the little badge stickers the officers gave to children. Junior Detective. She wondered, as they waited for the elevator to reach them, if the overlap in naming was a coincidence or some subtle form of hazing.

Hazing, of all kinds, was banned in the department, had been since long before she got there. But that didn't mean it still didn't exist, though usually in a much more mild form than what had apparently been the norm in years past. She herself had been made to buy the morning donuts for the detectives in her small part of the department for the last few months since she had been promoted. 32 mammals including herself. And there were other things too. 'Shit rolls downhill,' Chambois had said to her once before making her file everyone's reports for a week. She hadn't enjoyed those things, but she had learned much. The things that her fellow detectives liked and didn't. Who was most reliable in their paperwork and who needed to be poked and prodded, and their worked double checked after it was handed in. And the flow of the department. How the different personalities and mammals all interacted to get their jobs done. Who were the leaders, the followers, the ones who would toe the line and the ones that had no compunctions about crossing it.

It was a different environment than what she had acclimated to as a patrol officer. Much less regimented, the lines of what was and wasn't acceptable much more blurred.

"You excited to see your first murder? A stone cold _fox_ too. Lucky!" Detective Chambois asked as the elevator began its slow upward climb.

"No, not really…"

"Heh, neither was I. It's always interesting though. If there is one thing I can say about us mammals, it's that we are really good at devising ways of killing each other. You really never know what you are gonna walk into."

Judy didn't reply, the tone seemed all wrong. It was something she was not used to yet. The gallows humor that was so pervasive amongst the detectives she worked with. They seemed to make light of everything, criminal and victim alike. She just couldn't relate to it, could not understand how someone could poke fun at someone who had just died, or been robbed, or even done the robbing. She had wondered, at first, if her promotion had placed her in the company of nearly three dozen sociopaths, but, after a short time, she had come to understand they they were simply jaded.

She had experienced a similar attitude as a 'beatie', the somewhat derogatory nickname for patrol officers amongst the detectives. A sort of frustrated, apathetic weariness that seemed to slowly infect even the most empathetic officers, even her. But it had never been so potent, so concentrated. Every detective seemed to display their own brand of it. For Chambois part she seemed to revel in making jokes about some of the least pleasant parts of their job, and watching Judy squirm as she performed them.

"Oh, c'mon, Judy! Buck up! This is a big step. You know what they say: 'Life is better when you are laughing!'"

Judy didn't feel like laughing, though, on some level she understood what Chambois was doing. She had read about the somewhat counterintuitive phenomenon that swept communities experiencing hardship. The deep dive into a strange, almost perverse sense of humor that kept things bearable. She understand that what Chambois was doing was to raise her spirits, alleviate her nervousness, put her in the right mindset to experience what she was up on the third floor, room 425.

She appreciated that. Was happy that her partner cared enough about her to take the effort to shield her, even if just a little, for the painful reality of their job. But it wasn't helping, it only made Judy more nervous, exacerbated her dread. She sighed, allowing some of the tension she felt to flow out with each deep breath. She knew what she had to do, what she had to be, a professional, in control and meticulous. And she was going to be that, no matter what. "I'll be fine," she said, "I knew what I signed up for."

"Hah!" Chambois barked, "I said the same thi–"

DING!

The elevator chimed as the door open, the sound surprisingly loud.

"Well, it's time to do our thing, Hopps."

425 was not far, just a left out of the elevator and a short jaunt down the hall. There was an officer she didn't recognize standing outside the door, gazing at his phone.

"Hey, Wright." Chambois called out to him as they approached.

"Oh, hey, Ava. I was wondering when you would get here." He seemed to notice Judy for the first time at that point and the zebra gazed down at her almost predatorily. "A _Junior_ huh? Didn't think they had you ruining the newbies anymore Chambois."

"They only give them to me when the Chief particularly dislikes them." She grinned at the zebra, who met her gaze and held it. Held it for just a moment longer than what Judy thought normal. It was over then, as quickly as it came, the officer and detective suddenly looking away from the other, a strange tension filling the air.

Judy stood there, watching the two of them, confused as to the delay. It was no secret that the two of them had a _thing_ together, despite the difference in species. The only ones who were apparently still under the impression they they had kept it under wraps was the two of them. But Judy was content to let their silly game continue, and she pushed passed her mentor and entered the small apartment.

It was quaint, but well kept, the entrance opening directly into the kitchen. A kitchen dominated by the massive form of Sergeant Fangmeyer.

"Hopps," he said as she entered, "where's Chambois?"

She gave him a significant look, and he immediately understood her meaning. He scoffed, mumbling under his breath, but didn't move from where he was, instead fixing Judy with a hard glare. "Well Hopps, I suppose now is your time to shine. The body is on the other side of the counter," he said, tilting his head toward the living room, separated from the kitchen with only a simple breakfast counter.

Judy swallowed, her anxiety welling up, the nervousness she had felt in the elevator returning tenfold. She hadn't realized just how effective Chambois had actually been at making her forget her nervousness, the awkward moment in the hallway and the rank unprofessionalism that was no doubt taking place at that very moment causing her to forget all about it. But it didn't slow her down, she didn't hesitate, had seen bodies before, had helped with investigations before. She was ready for this, as ever she would be, and, without a second glance back at Fangmeyer, she stepped around the counter to look upon the thing she had chosen, the life of a detective.

It was a red fox, a vixen, just as she had been told. The poor thing lay upon her side beside a fallen stool, one paw still clutching lightly at her neck and the other laying open, a large plastic smoothie cup just beyond the fingertips. Even in death it was obvious that she had died painfully, the face managing the to look strained even after the life had drained from the muscles, and she was scrunched into a tight ball, but not the tail, which seemed to stick straight out from her hips. Vomit, or something like it was pooled before her, brown and glistening on the faux-hardwood floor.

"She hasn't been dead long, maybe three or four hours, she was screaming I guess, and someone called it in." Fangmeyer broke the silence, leaning across the counter to gaze down upon the body with Judy. She nodded, but no more as she retrieved a pair of latex gloves from her pocket. "There is nothing else of note here though, as far as I can tell anyway, no sign of struggle, no break in, nothing. Just a dead fox in her little apartment. I am still running her info, it–"

"Fangmeyer," Judy interrupted him, keeping her gaze on the prostrate vixen.

"Yeah?"

"Please be quiet for a moment, I need to concentrate." He didn't reply, and she didn't catch his expression, if he had indeed even made one, but he remained silent, and she returned to the mystery before her.

She wasn't young, the fox, the fur around her lips, and her eyebrows, and the rim of her ears misted every so slightly with grey. Middle aged perhaps, though attractive and fit, dressed in exercise wear. Meticulously groomed, her claws maintained just so and not a stray hair on her head. Judy wondered if the vixen would take pleasure in that. Knowing that even in death she still looked good.

She stepped closer to the body, circling the unfortunate vixen, taking her in from all angles she could reach. She brushed her fingers through the vixen's fur, examining the skin. It was a dark, splotchy, red, almost as if it had been bruised. It was especially prevalent amongst the cream fur of her neck and chest. A strange condition, not one she had ever seen before. But she wasn't about to draw any conclusions upon it. There was still much to discover.

She tested the air, nose working furiously, could smell many things. A strange perfume she didn't recognize but liked, the smell of a fox, reminding her of someone from long in her past, though it had a softer taste, not a perfect imitation of him, and almonds. Bitter almonds. In fact that was by far the most powerful scent she could detect, it was overpowering. She kneeled down by the corpse, searching for the source of the scent. It was the puddle. Not vomit, a drink of some sort, maybe a protein shake, a common dietary supplement for many predators.

"Fangmeyer," she finally said, "are there protein shakes up there?"

"Yeah," he said after returning into view holding a box of protein packets, "good ones too."

"Any of them almond flavored?"

"No, but I suspect the scent you are picking up is this," he said, holding out a small brown bottle emblazoned with the words, 'Pure Almond Extract'. She took the bottle, examining it for any irregularities. But she found nothing, it was a normal bottle. She opened it, held it up to her nose and took a breath.

Her world exploded, a horrible burning tearing through her nose. She was dizzy, nearly fell, nearly dropped the bottle, the everything spun around her. She caught herself, just barely. She retched, suddenly feeling as though everything she had eaten that day was about to exit her body in a violent torrent. She fought back the urge, felt Fangmeyer at her side.

"Hopps?!"

"I'm fine." She pushed him away. "I'm fine… really. That stuff is just… _strong."_ He took the bottle from her, took a whiff himself and recoiled.

"Oh, shit, you weren't kidding. Ahck, fuck it burns. The hell would anyone put that in their smoothie?"

"They sell this stuff at health food stores these days. Supposed to be good for you."

"Anything that smells like that can't be good for you." He eyed her, concern on his face. "You ok? That stuff really sent you for a loop."

"Yeah, I am good, awful stuff. Here, put it in the bag," she offered him an evidence bag. "Maybe it'll cut down on the smell." There was something off about the bottle, the intensity of the smell, the way it had smacked her in the face the moment it touched her sinus, but she couldn't place it. She would log it as evidence though, have a closer look at it later. "Can you tell me anything else about her, Sergeant?"

"Not much, HQ is still running her ID," he motioned to her purse sitting on the countertop by the door, "but the neighbors say that she was bit of a recluse. Nice though, always lent a helping hand if necessary. And she went on runs every morning. Landlord says she had been here for two years. Good tenant too. Always on time with rent and kept good care of things, as you can see." Judy nodded, gazing back at the fox, constructing a mental picture of her life. "When HQ gets back to me I'll let you know what she did. Not sure why they haven't gotten back to me already."

"What was her name?"

"Her ID said Ella Bissett… she was 52."

Judy nodded, the name releasing a flood of sadness inside her. She hated death, the pain it caused, the loss.

"You might want to get Chambois in here, she'll want to take a look before the rest of the department tears this place apart. I'll have a look around," Judy finally replied.

"I glanced around already. Not much to see, still, be my guest." She did just that, though he wasn't far off the mark. There wasn't much there beyond the life of the vixen lying in the living room, but there wasn't much to say even about that. There were few pictures, nothing that struck Judy as any of family. Just a number of portraits of the vixen, a few more candid shots as well. She liked to smile. And hers seemed to involve her whole face, her very eyes radiating her joy. Judy wondered who had taken all those happy pictures, not a single one contained another soul, they were all simply the Vixen, smiling at the camera. It was the only thing that could have been called a personal flair in the whole space. The apartment felt sterile, manufactured, as if the dead fox was rather more a guest in a hotel rather than the resident of an apartment. It was an eerie feeling, walking through a place that didn't feel lived in at all.

She entered the bedroom, perfectly organized like the rest of the apartment, and walked around the edge taking it all in. Much could be discovered about a mammal in their bedroom. It was a place for many where they could truly cut loose, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. But if Judy hoped that this bedroom would be just as revealing as her own, she was disappointed. There was nothing notable there. Nothing in the closet besides clothing, nothing in the amore other than more clothes and jewelry drawer with some very nice pieces. She found the perfume the vixen wore, and noted the name, but left it in its place. She took pictures, of everything. The bedroom, the hallway, kitchen, living room, bathroom, the body. Chambois made sure Judy got a photo of the fox from every angle.

The coroner arrived soon after to examine the body, but had little to say, and instead quickly left with the vixen wrapped tightly in a black body bag. They collected evidence, what little there was. The extract bottle, hairs on the floor, the imprint of lips upon the smoothie glass. But there was nothing shocking there, nothing that lead them to believe that this might have been foul play. Just an unfortunate, but natural death. They went around and around the apartment, searching again and again, hoping that perhaps they had missed something in the first half dozen passes.

HQ finally got back to them with the information they had asked for, after more than two hours, a horrendously long time.

"Records had a heck of a time finding her. Pillow said it was like all the links to her file had been erased," Clawhauser said over the radio, sounding suitably apologetic for the delay. "But I found what you asked for Fangmeyer. Ella Brisset," he read. "Looks like she was a long time political operative for the Labor Party, a registered lobbyist… I guess lately she has been working as a staffer for Mayor Lionheart's office."

"She'll be well connected," Chambois said. "Might want to take a trip to the Mayor's office."

Judy nodded, but the result of the search didn't sit right with her. Clawhauser had said it was as though her record had been erased. A strange thing for someone who worked for the Mayor. It might have been nothing, a computer bug, or a mistake somewhere along the line, but it sounded familiar, as if she had run into a similar problem once before.

Then it clicked. Nicholas Wilde. His record had been impossible to find, but found it she had, after much effort. That searched had sparked much in her, all those years ago. It had made her realized just want she wanted to do on the force. Become a detective, research and solve puzzles to solve crime. It was such a strange thing, that even through what had turned out to be an utterly fruitless search, the military never even responded to her frequent inquiries, Nicholas Wilde had continued to influence her, provide her direction and push her forwards into the future. She had kept that picture of him at the graduation, though it was rare these days that she would look at it. She had kept all the records she had discovered too, though she didn't look at those anymore either. Rather, she kept them as a testament to what she could accomplish if she put her mind to it. She had found a record that didn't exist. And if she could do that what else couldn't she do?

It was an interesting coincidence, that Ella's record was much like Nick's, though obviously less well hidden. But the parallel didn't really help her at that moment. It provided her with no profound realization about their current predicament. Nick's record had been an oddity, but not an illuminating one. Nevertheless the similarity heightened her critical eye. She took a deeper look at the apartment, approached it more methodically. She reentered the bedroom, looked around, found nothing, Stepped back into the hallway, gazed at the closet there she had opened probably ten times already, and opened it again.

There was little inside, a vacuum, a some boxes filled with holiday decorations, nothing out of the ordinary. She tested them, shaking a few, grasping at straws, chasing after a feeling that seemed to be misleading her. She shook one and it toppled over, full of nearly nothing. She gazed at its contents, frustrated.

"You good, Hopps?" came a call from the living room.

"Yeah, just knocked some crap over…" She looked at the next, full of tinsel and unusual ornaments, nothing to see there. She lifted it, intent on looking at the last box, but she paused, surprised at the weight. She gazed into the box for a moment, trying to reconcile her conflicting perceptions. She replaced the box on the stack and began removing its contents, gingerly placing them in the box she had knocked to the floor. There was something there, at the bottom, a case, deep maroon and heavy. She pulled it from the box and placed it upon the floor in the hallway. There was no lock, just a simple latch, wrought in silvery chrome. She pressed the button beside it and the latch snapped open. Slowly, carefully, she opened the case, her eyes growing wider as the contents were revealed.

Passports, it contained passports, at least a dozen, no, no, that was too much. There were only nine, from countries all over the world, an incredible, multi-colored array of booklets, each in their own individual slots. She took hold of one in the middle, a deep maroon just like the case, and pulled it from its place. There was a seal upon it, embossed in gold, a lion, framed by a rising sun, impaling a snake upon a spear, the lion's great paw pressed down upon the reptile's neck. There were words that bordered the image, surrounded it in a ring, words she didn't understand, ' _Nemo Grandum Super Anguis'._ There were words below the seal however, that she could understand, and they read:

 _Passport_

 _Federal Republic of Pridova_

She blinked at the name, a nation that she wasn't familiar with. She had heard the name, but it might have been on the opposite side of the moon for all she knew. She flipped the booklet open, realized she couldn't read the text therein, but she saw the picture, and she read the name. It was Ella, there was no doubt. Her piercing green eyes stared up at her from the little booklet, but the name was wrong, she could tell, even if it was printed in Pridovian script. It read, 'Ioana Jakkals'. She replaced the booklet, took out another, blue this time, embossed with a shield surrounded by a wreath and beneath that the words 'Kingdom of Aturia'. She opened this one too, saw Ella's picture again along with the name 'Crina Soro'. She replaced that booklet too, staring down at the array, trying to achieve some sort of understanding of what it was she was looking at. Why would someone have multiple passports? And all from different nations? It didn't make sense, the thing before her entirely beyond her experience. Or was it?

She examined the case more closely, hoping that there might be some sort of clue. But it was totally featureless beyond the latch and handle that adorned the edge. But she noticed something during her examination, the case was far deeper than it seemed when opened, and it was far too heavy just to contain some passports. She took hold of one of the pouches that contained a booklet and pulled.

Nothing happened, the false bottom perhaps not being quite as false as it seemed. But she did not relent, instead returning to inspecting the inside edges for some way to release the passport tray. She found it, a simple system, slide the tray forward just slightly and it was easy to lift out. She took a peek beneath it, started, surprise making a brief appearance on her face before she regained her composure and placed the tray on the floor. On one side there was cash, a large amount of different currencies, probably the equivalent of a few thousand Bucks, but there was no way for her to be sure, much of it she didn't even recognize. And on the other, there was a pistol, tucked neatly into a specially designed slot along with two magazines.

She stared at the contents, her mind racing, trying to put the pieces together. But the longer she thought about it the more lost she became, the further she moved from connecting the dots. It was spy stuff, like from a TV or a movie. That was silly though, spies like that fantasy. It had to be something else. The pistol was probably illegal, she knew that much, weapons like that long banned for the general public, but the passports... How could someone acquire so many? She knew nothing of the process to be given one, had never had one herself and she soon realized that she couldn't think of anyone she knew that had one either, though it certainly wasn't a normal topic of conversation. Identity theft perhaps? No, that didn't seem the provide the solution either.

Things just weren't adding up, there was just too much she didn't know, didn't understand. She was grasping at straws just trying to make sense of the basics of what she saw before her. So she fell back upon one the first lessons that he been pounded into her head at the Academy. The one lesson that, more than any other, was constantly reinforced day in and day out on the Force: When in trouble, ask for help.

"Hey, Chambois, Fangmeyer, I found something."

* * *

"Hello, Nick," the voice said over the phone, sounding almost robotic. His new boss, Horace. It was a secured line. "There's been an emergency briefing called and we want you down at HQ."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Not sure yet, they haven't told me anything."

"I feel like you tell me that a lot. Maybe they are trying to tell _you_ something."

"Hah, go fuck yourself, Nick. Meeting starts in an hour, I'll see you then."

"Yeah, ok, I'll see ya." Nick sighed as he hung up the phone, not relishing the fact that he now had to make his way downtown. He had already mapped out the rest of his day, and that road map had definitely not included being at the ZIA facility that afternoon. He resented being told to go there, though only a little, and only because he had planned to do basically nothing that day. Work of course, he wasn't neglecting anything, but he was feeling lazy and he wanted nothing more than to indulge that feeling.

But he couldn't avoid it. Meetings like this were a rare event. Something big was happening, and whatever his mood he would be loath to miss it. He had been back from Arctica for about a month – a long, boring month. It had been made clear to him upon his arrival home that he was desperately needed there, that someone with his experience and talents were just what the counterespionage division needed. But that had been, apparently, a lie, or perhaps simply an alternative fact. He had in fact been given very little to do, and was mostly left to his own devices. Normally that would not have been a problem, he had been thrown into a similar situation in Arctica and he had taken advantage of that general lack of oversight to build a large an effective espionage operation. But here in Zootopia the game was different. He had no authority, no budget, and no direction.

He kept himself busy, doing what he could with what little he was provided. Had rebuilt many of the bridges he had made during his last stint in this division. But there wasn't at the moment, much more that he could do. Counterespionage was inherently reactionary, and he had nothing to react to. So he sat, festered, and stewed in his little, dingy apartment. Rudderless, and immensely bored.

His worse fears about his reassignment had been realized. Made all the worse by the fact that that reassignment was not based upon competence or success, rather national politics, the one type that was almostly entirely beyond his control. He hadn't loved Arctica, but he had loved his work there. It gave him purpose, and that was perhaps one of the things he needed most.

At least this briefing was _something_. Something to break up the monotony he had been forced into. It was something because if the ZIA and the Director had intended for him to return home into total obscurity and irrelevance, they wouldn't have made him a part of it. He was excited, he realized, for whatever it might bring. He left only a few moments later, it wouldn't take him an hour to get downtown, perhaps only 20 minutes, but it would serve him well to test the waters, feel out the mood at HQ before he was thrown into the thick of things. For the first time in a month, perhaps even more, Nick Wilde felt as though his life was moving again, even if this was only a small step, it was going _somewhere._

* * *

"Brisset's dead," said the tiger at the head of the table, scanning about as he did so. The excited, nervous tension in the room becoming palpable, every occupant fully focused upon the speaker. The name meant nothing to Nick, too long had he been out of this loop to know all the players just yet, but he reacted with the feeling of the room. Whomever it was, this was a shock, and he was keen to find out why.

"How, when?" came the voice of a deer sitting a few seats to his left, close to the tiger who had made the announcement. They all watched him closely as he considered his reply.

"Two days ago, the ZPD got a call to her apartment. Found her dead. We are not sure what happened, not yet. Our contact in the department is being very quiet, and we are not sure about that either. They may have found something there that they weren't supposed to."

"What kind of thing did she have that they aren't supposed to see? She was only working for the Mayor," the jackal across from Nick asked.

"I don't know that either, but whatever happened the ZPD is keeping things under wraps."

"Do we know what killed her?" asked a rat sitting at the far end of the table.

"No, we don't."

"The ZPD must by now, autopsies don't take two days." Another deer, though this one Nick knew, Scott Yano.

"Couldn't it simply be that they don't really care? She was just a fox. A lot of foxes die each day." It was a badger, sitting close to the head of the table, another mammal Nick had never met, but he knew then that he never wanted to. The badger never even looked at him.

The tiger raised his paw, demanded silence, and then finally said, "We do not know these things, our wells have run dry." It was as much a statement of fact as it was an accusation, his gaze swept around the room, lingering here and there, his message clear. "She is the third agent who has died in the last six months, we are missing something. We are losing, but we know not to whom." He let the statement linger, the gravity of it weighing down on the room, and then he turned to the section heads and ask for their reports.

The meeting went on and on like that, status update after status update rattled off by the various mammals around the room. Every mammal there was in charge of something, Nick quickly realized, and that realization was made all the more poignant when he was passed over. It was a bizarre exercise, almost degrading, for no one had anything to offer. They were, collectively, at a loss, and Nick found himself in much the same position. He had considered, at first, once the tiger had made his announcement, that perhaps this Ella might have been a double agent, caught up in his little plot. A thought that was, perhaps, too arrogant by half. While there was a possibility, it was doubtful that he had had such a far reaching impact, especially because this Ella was not someone he had been aware of, at least he didn't think so. And the timing didn't make sense either. Three agents in six months? No, he had only formulate his plan four months ago, and had only put it into action a little less than two.

So Nick sat, absorbing as much as he could, listening intently to each update and taking notes on all that was said. And indeed there was much, a long list of topics hashed and then rehashed, but with little progress made. And eventually, it came to an end, two unproductive hours later. There was little post briefing conversation, the various attendees quickly retreating lest they catch the tiger's ire. He had not been pleased. His countenance had grown darker and darker as it had dragged on, and his subordinates did not realish the idea of remaining in his presence.

Nick was one of the last to leave, had exchanged a few words with Scott, and was just just collecting what little he had brought when he was interrupted by the tiger.

"Nicholas Wilde is it?" the tiger asked, appraising him.

"Yes sir, I don't think we have met," Nick replied, offering his paw. The tiger grasped it in his own massive paw and they shook, neither breaking eye contact for even a moment.

"Eli Thompson. So what did you think of all that?" he asked, motioning with his head back into the room.

Nick paused before answering, considering what he was to say. It had been a thoroughly unproductive meeting, but in situations such as these honesty wasn't always the best policy. Nevertheless, he was honest. "Well… I don't really think we accomplished anything…" He was nervous, and the words came out low and hesitant. He didn't expect Eli to react poorly, Nick was under no illusion that Eli was just asking for some sort of validation. But he knew that, regardless of what Eli was looking for, he held the future of Nick's career in his paws. Eli was the Deputy Director of the ZIA, a powerful, dangerous mammal. He was as elusive as the Director, a mammal Nick had seen only once in his decade long career at the Agency, but he was certainly just as demanding, and far more involved in the day to day operations. Nick had no desire to find himself on the tiger's bad side.

"Heh, very diplomatic of you. We are in a difficult situation as I am sure you know. Conducting operations here in Zootopia is technically illegal, but at the same time we are asked to combat domestic espionage. We have no authority here, and yet we are asked to do all the investigations, make all the decisions. And at every turn other agencies constantly work against us. It's a bad place to be in."

"I remember, sir, the difficulties we ran into the last time I was assigned here."

"And I remember the difficulties you ran into." It was a jab, a painful one. It had been three years ago that Nick had gotten himself blown up by the the mob boss Koslov, but it had been the reason he had been reassigned back to Arctica. Banished, it felt like at the time, though in hindsight it had been just what Nick needed. "I heard about what you did in Arctica though, good work it's said. And it is my understanding that your little caper before you left has done amazing things."

"Ah, thank you, sir," Nick replied, his confidence suddenly returning with a gusto. To be praised by a mammal like Eli was no small thing. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to leave them with parting gift."

Eli didn't laugh, but instead fixed Nick with a hard stare, "I brought you back here, Nicholas, instead of bundling you off to some other foreign assignment, because I have hope that you will bring some of that same flare back with you to this station. We are desperate for it. I have high expectations for you Nicholas. Good day." He did not wait for a reply, and left Nick standing there, contemplating his words. Nick wasn't sure, not really, if that was a good thing or not, but he had no intention of disappointing Eli. He hated idleness, but it had been good to him in one way. Nicholas Wilde had plan.

* * *

It was a good plan that would solve quite a few of their problems. Risky though, and they needed an agent who could act the convincing cop. It would break every law in the book of course. Might create an incredible scandal if discovered, but there could be no reward without the risk.

Nick had spent the last two weeks preparing his proposal, checking and rechecking, formulating an understanding of what sort of powers police had in Zootopia and identifying how their structure could be exploited. How closely they were monitored. What they could get away with. It had been an enlightening study, the things they could do, legally, he was amazed. But whatever his personal feelings about what he had discovered, he had a job to do. Direct this weapon of the powerful in a way that could be useful to the ZIA. And he was ready to do just that.

So he sat, waiting for those to whom he had to give his pitch, in a meeting room much like the one in which he had met Eli, though a floor lower. He wasn't nervous, had put a tremendous effort into calming himself, but he was ready to begin, ready to pull the band aid as quickly as he could.

The door opened and his boss entered, smiled at him, but said not a word as he took a seat at the edge of the room. He had to approve this plan just as much as the higher ups did, though he had been invaluable in the preliminary planning. He still had a chance though, to put a pin in the entire thing if he wished. He wouldn't but he could, and that didn't sit well with Nick.

A few moments later, others entered, chatting, the mood they brought, good. A positive sign, Nick hoped, though he knew he still had his work cut out for him. He knew none of these mammals, had no friends there, no allies apart from his boss, and that accounted for little. He was the new face in the home station again, an outsider, and outsiders weren't trusted.

The door opened again and Eli entered, followed by another mammal he did not know, a bespectacled gazelle. They all found seats, eventually, and once they did the presentation began.

Nick's boss stood, introduced himself and then said, "This is Nicholas Wilde, one of our agents who has just been reassigned from a foreign station to my team, he has a proposal to–"

"What station?" one of the mammals croaked out.

"Arcticia," Horace said.

"And what did he do on the Arcticia station?" another asked.

"Ran it." Nick said. The collective attention of the room immediately upon him the moment he spoke. "I answered directly to Ambassador Stevens."

"And why didn't you stay on when Ottersberg arrived?"

"He had his own spymaster in mind. Though I stayed for more than three months getting my replacement acclimated."

"Are you the same Nicholas Wilde who got himself blown up in a warehouse on the docks a few years ago?"

"Yes sir," Nick replied without a hint of contrition. He was done, long done, apologizing for that.

"You caused a lot of problems, Wilde."

"I have been briefed on the complications caused by that explosion. But today I come to you with a solution, a proposal." He was greeted with silence, rewarded with only their attention. It was enough. He launched into his plan. The ZIA would pick an agent to pose as a FIB officer and create a task force of officers at the ZPD with which they could persecute their domestic enemies with near impunity. And most importantly it would all be legal, outside of the agent doing the directing, impersonating an FIB agent was no laughing matter, but that was a small detail. It would give the ZIA exactly what they wanted, the ability to prosecute the war against domestic spying as they saw fit. And, more importantly, it was a proof of concept. If things went well, something similar could be implemented in every major city.

If it worked they would no longer have to work with FIB, poking and prodding them to act as quickly as possible. It would create an arm of the ZIA free of scrutiny from the Parliament's Intelligence Committee, that obstructive, difficult body of politicians. Police, of course, experienced a different kind of scrutiny, but it would be easy to circumvent, to co-opt. It would give the ZIA a freedom of action at home they had never before experienced. All they had to do was grasp it.

He could tell, as the presentation went on, that he was doing well. They were engaging with him, asking questions, making suggestions, talking almost excitedly amongst themselves. The gazelle though, through it all, seemed skeptical, unconvinced.

"And who did you have in mind for this Op, Wilde?" the gazelle asked, cutting off another question.

"I have a list here of who I think would be best suited." He handed out copies to the attendees. "They were selected based upon their past law enforcement experience."

"Where did you get this list?"

It was provided to me by HQ." The gazelle eyed him, searched his face for any falsehoods.

"The first agent on the list, and the second too, they are mine. I am not releasing them for this," gazelle said as the rest of Nick audience scanned the paper.

"I understand sir. There are four more on there from which we can choose." Then more objections came from the others. These rest of the agents on the list were busy with other operations too, and certainly couldn't be redirected on such short notice. "I can make other selections," Nick said, doing his best to keep them focused upon his vision as a whole rather than the details. "But I think we can all agree that this Op has so much potential that it is worth moving our resources around to make it happen."

"And what do you plan on doing while we send one of our agents off to play cop?" the gazelle asked.

"Aiming the weapon," he said matter of factly.

"Why don't you do it, Nick?" Eli asked, the first time he had spoken during the whole exchange.

"Well, sir, I…" He had plenty of reasons, had ruled out his own personal participation long ago. First of all there was, already, the extreme risk of being discovered to be a fraud. He had never been a cop, had stayed as far from that lifestyle as he could, and he was not prepared to mimic an agent of the FIB. He would just increase the risk of failure by sticking his nose in the middle of things. Second of all, he explained, there was the risk of losing sight of the bigger picture by getting too stuck in. If he ran a police task force he would be in the thick of it, helping with investigations, making arrests. He would be so focused on the day to day running of his team that he would lose the ability to effectively direct the task force to where it was needed most.

The second reason rang rather hollow, he had to admit. It would really be no different than any other small team he had managed over the years. But he was throwing darts, hoping something would stick.

There was a more personal reason too, one he would never tell anyone. They had selected Precinct One for the Op, felt it gave them the widest reach around the city, but it brought with it a problem. Judy Hopps was a detective, or Junior Detective, at Precinct One. If he had to personally run the task force, well, there was no possibility that he might avoid her. And then everything he had worked so hard to build. All the walls and defenses he had built up to remove the hold she had on him would come tumbling down.

He argued and argued, countering their every objection with one of his own. But, finally, the decision was made for him.

"Wilde," Eli said, "I don't know what to tell you. This is a good plan I think, once we work out some of the details, but I don't see any way around this. If you want this to happen you have to lead this one up. There is no one else to do it at the moment."

Nick stood there, horrified, empty, a sick feeling rising in his throat. "Yes, sir, I understand," he said. "I'll do it."

It was all wrong, it wasn't supposed to happen this way. He had avoided her for a good reason, had no desire to experience to the pain their reunion would bring. But now if he wished to save his career he had no choice but to meet her again.

Oh, gods, what had he done?

* * *

His phone was ringing, for the second time. Someone hadn't gotten the message when he hadn't picked it up on the first call. He glanced at his clock, bleary eyed and still half asleep. It read 12:45 AM, late. Who the fuck was calling at 1 AM? He grabbed the phone off the nightstand, saw the name on the display and then chucked it across the room. Why the fuck was Nick calling him at one in the morning? He was probably drunk, Finnick realized. Nick was bored, incredibly so, ever since he had returned to Zootopia. But it was unlike him to call him at this hour. That damn fox might lack many things, but he at least had sense not to wake up his friend in the middle of the night.

The phone began to ring again, loud in the quiet room, taunting him with each chime. He staggered daggers at it, willing it to shut up with all his might.

"Finnick, turn off the stupid phone, I am trying to sleep!" Jackie said from beside him, rolling away from the noise. The ringing stopped for a third time, blessed silence falling over his bedroom once again. Nick would not call back, the message was clear by now. Finnick's mind began to recede back into murky unconsciousness, the only coherent thought remaining the one about how he was going to kill Nick in the morning. Then there was nothing, he was gone.

The phone rang.

"Finnick!"Jackie called from beneath her pillow.

He shot from the bed in a rage, snatched the phone and flew from the room, careful not to close the door too loudly. He seethed at the phone, wished to smash it, to hurl it from a window as far as it could be tossed. But in the back of his mind a concern reared its ugly head. It was unusual for Nick to call like this, and to be so insistent too. There was trouble. He answered the phone.

"Finnick, Finnick… Finnick?"

"Nick, do you realize what time it is?"

"Yeah, I know it's late, but I thought I would give you and Jackie a chance to get it over with, I know how the two of you are together."

"Wha– shut the fuck up Nick. The hell are you calling me for!?"

"I just go out of a meeting Finnick, we finally have something to do again, but I kinda fucked up."

"What do you mean "we". I am not helping out the ZIA again, I told you I am done with that shit!"

"Finnick, focus, I need to explain to you what's going to happen."

"No, Nick, I don't care, I am not getting involved!"

"Finn, I've explained this to you: I need you. We are like two peas in a pod. I can't make the magic happen without your help! Now, this meeting. They liked my proposal."

Finnick sighed, "That's great, Nick… tell me again why you needed to call me at one in the morning to tell me?"

"As I said, I kinda fucked up! They are making _me_ do it. The impersonating the agent bit, I have to do it. "

Finnick was silent for a moment, processing what he had just heard. It was hilarious. And he laughed, his deep cackle echoing around the hall outside his room.

"Shut up, Finnick, this isn't funny! I– He went silent for a moment.

"You what?"

"I… I'm not a cop, Finnick! I don't know the first thing about being an FIB agent. It's like the ZIA has it out for me!"

"Well, I hope you have fun with that Nick, I'm going to bed."

"Wait, Finnick, you're going to help me right? I need you buddy."

"Fuck no I am not. I am not getting anywhere near the police. I don't think I need to remind you of how I feel about police, Nick."

"Hmmm… shit."

"What?"

"Well, I… I sorta already told them you would be on it with me."

Laughter erupted from Finnick's muzzle, frustrated, angry, "Nick, I ain't doin' shit. They can't fuckin make me!" It took every fiber of his being not to yell and scream into his phone. But it was one in the morning, and Jackie would not like being awoken.

"Well, they can, it's not like they don't know where you li–" Finnick hung up the phone and turned it off, he didn't want to hear the rest of whatever Nick had in store for him. Couldn't believe that Nick would just volunteer him for another operation. He didn't even work for the ZIA! Not technically, had never been an agent. Rather more like retinue. And now he didn't even want to be that..

He was furious, and he had no outlet, so he stood there in the dark hallway shaking with anger, hoping it would pass. But it continued forth, like a great storm in his mind. He needed to do something and he began to walk down the hallway to the other side of the apartment where he could release it without disturbing his mate.

A paw on his shoulder stopped him as he was about to cross the threshold into the livingroom. Arms slid around his shoulder, the familiar, comforting smell momentarily filling his mind with thoughts of good times and happiness. He anger began to seep from his body as he was pulled back into her warm bosom, her tail engulfing him as he relented to her embrace. They sat there together on the floor, he in her lap, relishing the light kisses she planted on his ears and the way she nuzzled his neck. Soon, it was all gone, his anger, completely forgotten, and only she remained.

"Feeling better?" She asked, almost disappointed at having disturbed the pleasant silence.

"Yes," he sighed, and how couldn't he be? He had her. It had been a long struggle for him, to control his anger, a problem he had dealt with all his life. But at her insistence he had been working on it, and he had gotten better. But there were still times…

"Why didn't you come back to bed?"

"I was going to go into the kitchen to… vent. I didn't want to wake you."

"Aww," she giggled. "That's sweet. But doing it this way is so much better isn't?"

"Heh, yes, much better," he replied as she nibbled on his ear. "So much better."

* * *

Massive, that was his first impression of the ZPD HQ. Wrought from stone and iron, it dominated Savannah Central. It had not always been so monolithic, so imposing. The newest part of the building only completed some 10 years ago, and despite every effort taken to ensure it was a friendly, welcoming facade, in Nick's opinion they had failed horribly.

It didn't help that to Nick and to many other predators the police were often more a tool of oppression rather than protection. They protected the powerful from the weak, and maintained the status quo, no matter how despicable it might have been. He recognized the need for police on a basic level, there were rules in society that needed to be maintained, and everyone ought to have their day in court. But too many times Nick had seen his fellow foxes put upon by Zootopia's 'finest'. A dubious moniker, even for the most upstanding police officers. He had even been put upon himself, and he didn't always deserve it.

Things had gotten better, he knew that, or felt he knew that. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that he was _told_ that. But the distrust remained, festering just beneath the surface. It was doubtful he would every really get over that, and on some level he wasn't so sure that it was a bad thing. Police needed to be under intense scrutiny, lest they poison their relationships with the very communities they were supposed to protect.

It was with those feelings of unease that Nick Wilde sat in the waiting area outside the office of Chief Bogo, the head of the precinct that operated out of ZPD HQ. His was not the highest position on the force. No, that title went to the Police Commissioner, whose office was one floor above where Nick now sat. But Bogo was undoubtedly the most senior of all the Chiefs in the City. Running precinct one, by the far the largest and most active in the City was no simple task, and it wasn't assigned to just anyone.

He was not nervous for this meeting, despite what he knew about Bogo's disposition and reputation. We would be starting at the department in just a few short days, and there were still details to be hammered out. He had a problem with the roster, for one, the detectives he was going to be assigned inadequate in his mind, among other things. But he had been stonewalled over the phone, told quite literally that if he didn't like the roster he could find another precinct to ruin. He didn't like their part time status under his control either, he wanted them full time. He had much to do to justify this unorthodox approach to the ZIA, to demonstrate his domestic usefulness once again, and he wanted nothing to stand in his way. So he felt that the best way to smooth other these final remaining issues was to meet with Bogo, face to face. He wasn't really expecting to get his way, not entirely, but any movement in his direction was welcome.

"Agent Renard, you may come in," Bogo said, disappearing back into his office as quickly as he had come. He was a cold mammal, always had been, or so Nick had been lead to understand, and even more so when his authority was challenged. The curt welcome was not unexpected, but it did not bode well for what was ahead.

Nick followed Bogo back into the office – a modest space, the large desk in the center by far its most prominent feature. But there were awards lining the walls, and pictures of other officers too, and even one of a smiling Bogo receiving some plaque.

"Have a seat, Renard." Bogo gestured to the two seats facing his desk as he passed them by, taking his own behind the desk as Nick did as he was bid. "I understand that you are here because you disagree with the dispositions."

"That is primarily why I am here, though it is also to finally put a face to a name. It is a pleasure to meet you Chief, I must say I admire your service here at the Department."

Bogo grunted, apparently unappreciative of the complement. "I am very busy Renard, let's get this resolved so we can both move on with our day." It wasn't quite contempt in his voice that Nick detected, but the message was clear. Bogo didn't like that he was there. Nick knew this already of course, Bogo was nothing if not protective of his territory, and Nick was encroaching upon it, stealing his detectives, and in a manner that was highly unusual. FIB agents just didn't get involved in a police department like he was about to. It wasn't totally unheard of, but certainly unusual, and if the payoff of manipulating the department wasn't so great it never would have happened in the first place..

"Fair enough, Chief. I have two issues, first, I want my team full time, this is a big case, with ramifications all across the City, I–"

"We were doing just fine on those cases before the FIB decided to jam their muzzle into it and send _you_. You have already been offered six of my detectives on a part time basis, I don't see why you need them more. I am sure you realize that there are other crimes committed in this city, and I can't have so many of them working on just three murders, no matter how unusual they are."

Nick wasn't going to get anywhere on this tack, that much was obvious, but he was willing to haggle, "How about just three of them full time?"

"My detectives always work in pairs Renard," Bogo countered.

"Ok, two then, just two." Bogo hesitated, considering. Nick caught it immediately, a chink in the armor. "Chief, I know that you are stretched thin here, but this case, if my suspicions are proven correct, this case could result in the biggest busts in a decade. We aren't just talking about murders here, Chief, each of those mammals was killed by someone who knew what they were doing, and each victim found with unusual items. Multiple passports, illegal firearms, heavily encrypted electronics. Enigmas each one, with no apparent connection beyond what was found in their homes. I'll be honest, Chief, the FIB believes it could be international spying, and we really want to get to the bottom of it."

"Then why isn't the FIB handling it internally? Isn't that how those sorts of things usually work?" Bogo asked.

Nick hesitated, looked away, for effect rather than to consider his answer. He already well knew what he would say, but he felt as if on the cusp of getting his way, and he would leave nothing to chance. "The Bureau…" He sucked his teeth. "The Bureau, at the moment, doesn't feel as if it is in a position to perform this investigation, for reasons I am not at liberty to discuss. But loose lips send ships askittering if you catch my meaning."

Bogo blinked, "I am… not sure that I do."

"Just two, Chief, two is all I need."

Bogo leaned back in his chair, sighing as he did so. "Fine, you can have two. Chambois and Hopps, you can have them full time. They have been leading up the investigation on the most recent murder."

"Thank you, Chief! I appreciate it, however… that selection leads us into the other reason I am here. Does it have to be those two? Can can I take one of the other pairs perhaps? Maybe Seder and Brooks?"

"What's wrong with Chambois and Hopps?"

"Well, Chief, I am concerned about Hopps' experience. It says in her dossier that she is a Junior Detective. I am sure she is perfectly capable, but I would prefer if I had two fully trained and experienced detectives working closely with me."

"That's nice that you want that, but I am giving you Chambois and Hopps."

"Chief, I am not sure how I can make the importance of this case to the FIB any clearer. We need the best resources on this, and I am afraid that she may not be up to the task." Bogo's face darkened the further he went, and Nick rightfully decided to leave it at that. He wanted to say more. That she was just a rabbit, that he refused to work with her, but he suspected that those things would get him even less than he had already gotten himself with this little meeting.

And those things weren't really true anyway. He had no doubt about her competence – she wouldn't be where she was for nothing. But he didn't want to work with her. He had left things between them so poorly, had done his damndest to obstruct her search for him in City records, he decided long ago that that chapter of his life, the one in which she was so prominent, was done, written and sent of to the publishers, never to be revisited. He didn't want to deal with whatever meeting her might bring. Seeing her on the roster had caused an outpouring of emotion inside him that he had neither expected nor prepared for. She still meant something to him, though exactly what he couldn't put his finger on, but he was terrified as to how she might receive him. He knew how he had treated her, the lies and deception, and he didn't want to confront the consequences of all that. He was content just knowing that she was happy, and he didn't want to cap off his relationship with her, such as it was, with the knowledge of how she felt about him now. It was much easier for him to believe that she hated him than for him to know it in fact.

"First of all, Chambois is my best detective, there is no way I am not putting her on this one. If this case is as important as you say it is you will need her. Hopps, is her partner and trainee, they are a package, and I think this will be a great training experience for Hopps. And I will say this about Junior Detective Hopps: she was, by far, one of my best officers, and she is shaping up to be an excellent detective. I am not going to deny such a promising detective the chance to get even better. Renard, believe me when I say that I understand the history your species has with rabbits, but Judy is a professional, otherwise she wouldn't be working for me, and I expect that, while you are working here too, you will act no differently. Let me also remind you, Renard, that it was part of our agreement that I select the detectives assigned to the task force. I expect that we maintain that understanding, or you can go looking for another precinct."

"Of course, Chief, I was making no insinuations towards her species." There was nowhere to go. Bogo wouldn't budge, that was clear. And even if he would, Nick was sure it wouldn't be worth the effort to do so. "Alright, Chambois and Hopps it is. Thank you for your time today, Chief, it was a pleasure to meet you," Nick said as he stood to leave.

"And you too, Agent Renard. Oh, there is one last thing before you go. We have an office for you, just down the hall. You'd best locate it before you leave."

"Oh, perfect. Thanks again for your help today, Chief." And Nick left the office, feeling as though he would rather have not met at all. A confrontation with Judy was inevitable now, something he had spent years avoiding. He would manage, he was sure, but he just hoped that it didn't become a distraction from why he was really there. He had a job to do and he wasn't going to let a rabbit get in his way.

* * *

Judy's coffee cup was empty, consumed before she even got into work. She stared at it, horribly disappointed. She needed more, or she wouldn't make it through the rest of the morning. She had made a mistake the previous night, working so late. But she had been so focused on the case she was working on, was making so much progress, that she didn't want to stop.

It was a robbery, an elderly tapir's small home in the rainforest district vandalized and pilfered. She had spent two days absolutely devoted to the event, the very first Chambois let her take the lead on, start to finish, on her own. It hadn't been a difficult case, the cameras spread all over the city had caught the culprit entering and exiting the home. She had spent three hours the night before tracking the criminal's flight around the city, it had been two before she got a good shot of the license plate, and another before they reached their final destination. She had everything she needed, she just had go and make the arrest, her first since had become of detective. A big moment. Evidence of growth.

But now she just wished she had more coffee. She still had to apply for a warrant, hadn't felt up to filling out the affidavit so late, still had to go actually make the arrest, and then still had the rest of her day ahead of her. And all that on only a few hours of sleep. She would be dragging the whole day, but at least the supply of coffee would be plentiful. One of the perks of working in a profession fueled almost entirely on caffeine in all its forms. But she was, mostly, used to this kind of exhaustion, had been experiencing it on the force for years. That experience made it easier to handle, but it still wasn't any fun.

"Hey, Judy!" Clawhauser called to her as she entered the station, still focused on her empty cup.

"Oh, hey, Clawhauser, how's it going?" she replied, forcing herself to hide how she felt. "I didn't think you would be in today."

"You ok, Judy? I told you my vacation doesn't start till _next_ Monday."

"Oh, shoot, that's right. I'm sorry, I'm just tired, had a late night last night."

"You certainly look tired… oh! I have just the thing! How about an energy bar!" He held out the bar, rather small in his thick paws. Calwhauser was on a health food kick. Had decided a few weeks ago that he had to lose weight. But while he had kicked the really bad foods like donuts, no mean feat in and of itself, he had replaced those sugary foods with alternatives that weren't all that great themselves. Energy bars were certainly healthier than donuts, but they too had a lot of calories in them, and if eaten in the quantities Clawhauser did, well, he wasn't gaining much advantage over his previous diet. He had been making progress though, of that there was no denying, even if quite slow.

"Thanks Clawhauser, but that's a predator version, I don't think I can eat that." A tiny picture of a lion was emblazoned upon the wrapper beneath the name 'Pred-Protein'. "I really appreciate the offer though."

"Oh, darn, I'm sorry! I forgot. Wait I have–"

"Calwhauser, it's fine," Judy interrupted him, "I'll just go get more coffee. I am going to make my first arrest this morning, and I gotta be awake for it!"

"Congratulations, Judy! But… oh, did you forget about the briefing? It's this morning."

She looked at him, confused. "What briefing are you talking about?"

"Judy, the Fibber is here today, the one who is taking over one of your cases?" Judy gasped as the realization dawned upon her. She had completely forgotten, the robbery she was working on had absorbed her completely.

"Oh, carrot sticks! No, I forgot, what time was it scheduled for?" She was frantic, afraid that it had already gone by. The rumors had been flying for days, the FIB was taking over several cases, but some detectives were going to be selected for the agent's task force. She didn't know how that selection process was going to work, but there was no way she wanted to miss it. She knew she probably wasn't going to be selected. A three month old detective was hardly a detective at all, but there was always a chance.

"It's at eight. It's only 7:12 though, Judy, you still have a lot of time. Relax." He smiled at her from behind his desk. Eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Oh my gosh, Clawhauser, you can't do that to me! I thought I missed it!"

His grinned widened, "He's here you know. The agent. A fox! Can you believe it?"

"Wha… a fox? Really?"

"Yeah I know right? I am surprised they let foxes into the FIB."

"Calwhauser, that isn't nice!"

"You know what I mean, Judy! Foxes still aren't allowed to work in a lot of places. I am sure he is perfectly fine." He turned up his chin at her, pouting dramatically. Judy glared at the show, not willing to let him off so easily. She knew he meant no harm, was a mammal seemingly without prejudice, though he had his moments. But Judy was a mammal who had been written off time and again on account of her species and she didn't tolerate that behavior from her friends. "Ok, ok, Judy, I get it, I get it. I'm sorry. He was very nice when he spoke to me when he got in."

"Oh," she said, curiosity quickly overcoming her annoyance with her rotund friend, "you met him? What is his name?"

"Ben!" Clawhauser exclaimed. "Same as me! Benjamin Renard. Cool right? Who would have guessed that a cool FIB agent would have the same name as me? I can already tell we are going to get along great together!"

She hoped that was true. She wanted to learn as much as she could from the fox. This FIB agent. Even if she wasn't selected as part of the task force she had plans to glue herself to the agent's side. Glean as much as she could from him while he worked at the station. She hoped she liked him, and in turn that he liked her. But either way, she was determined to get everything she could. It was an opportunity she would have been a fool to pass up, and what was more, if they got along, he would be an excellent reference for whatever was next in her career. Judy was an ambitious rabbit, and she knew the value of allies.

She looked at her phone, 7:20, she had to go. Coffee was important, and she wanted to have at least one more cup in her before she went into that briefing. "Ok Clawhauser, I am gonna go. I have some things to take care of before my meeting."

"Ok, Judy, good luck, and have a nice day!"

It was amazing how quickly 40 minutes could pass. She had hardly gotten halfway through her cup, had hardly begun to fill out the affidavit, before it was time to go meet the FIB agent.

She was excited, wanted to know what it was like working on the next level. She knew the cases they handled were far vaster than anything she had ever seen, sometimes spanning the whole country. And she wanted to know what it was like to work in that environment. Fast paced, she imagined, exciting. A part of her wanted that next step, the title 'Special Agent Judith Hopps' had a very pleasing ring.

She wanted to be a part of the task force so badly, but the timing was all wrong. If this had all happened even just a year later her chances would have been so much better. She would be a full detective then. Maybe even with a few big cases under her belt. But it was not to be, and as she entered the bullpen and took her customary spot at the front, she resigned herself to the fact that she would be passed over.

It was not long before the room was full of her fellow detectives, Chambois taking the seat next to her. "You look sad Hopps, what wrong? Didn't figure out that robbery yet?"

"Oh! No, I got that one, I just have to get a warrant. We have footage and everything. Open and shut, I think. It's just… I know this is stupid, but I heard about the task force and I know I won't be selected." She shook her head, rather embarrassed now that she had articulated the source of her disappointment aloud.

"Oh, well, you never know, Hopps. These Fibbers always do things differently. They pick who they want and they get who they want. I think a fox Fibber is pretty rare, maybe he'll pick the rarest mammal on the force too." Judy chuckled, appreciated her partner's sunny disposition that morning. It cheered her up, just a little, at least enough so that she didn't look so forlorn. "Besides, Judy, you have a big day today. Your first arrest is nothing to shake a stick at."

"You're going to come with me right?"

"Of course! You think I would let my partner go and make an arrest alone?"

"No, of course not," Judy replied, feeling a little ridiculous for even having asked the question.

"Detectives, atten-tion!" called Sergeant Fangmeyer as Bogo walked into the bullpen, alone. He took his place at the podium, scanned the room, and began with the daily announcements, case updates, assignments, all important in the normal operation of a police department. But Judy wasn't alone in wanting it to end. All the detectives were on the edge of their seats. They had heard the same rumor a Judy had, and they wanted to know who would be assigned to the task force. It was the only reason many of them had even shown up to the morning briefing. Judy would have skipped it herself in fact. It was not mandatory for detectives if they were working on an active case.

But finally, the normal business was done, the moment had arrived. "Now," Bogo began, his deep, sonorous voice growing just a little louder, "as I am sure you have all heard, there is an FIB agent here today who is taking over the investigation of a string of murders that a few of you are working on. He has decided to assemble a task force of six detectives to assist him in the investigation. Only two of you will be working with the Agent full time, the other four will be part time. The Fibber says the case is very important, but I don't give a damn how important he thinks it is, I refuse to lose six of my detectives to the FIB for an indeterminate amount of time. Despite what the FIB believes, the world doesn't revolve around them." There was a smattering a laughter at the comment, a murmur of approval. Bogo paused, let it pass, then continued. "I have the list of those who will be assigned to the task force here." He took a pair glasses out of his breast pocket, the spectacles rendered insignificant by his large frame, and he picked up the sheet. "The following four detectives will be assigned to this task force on a part time basis. Half of your caseload will be evenly distributed among the rest of the department. Seder, Brooks, Binder, Lech."

Another murmur tore through the bullpen. A mixture of disappointment, relief, and excitement. The selected officers were all smiles, and they were congratulated and ridiculed with equal measure. Judy didn't watch the proceedings, the deep pit that had formed in her stomach prevented her from doing anything but stare straight ahead. She knew it was silly to hope to be assigned to the task force, but that didn't stop her.

"The two who will be working full time on the task force," Bogo said, the room falling silent the moment he spoke. "The two who will be on the task force full time are Chambois… and Hopps"

It felt like time had slowed to a crawl. Judy heard nothing, felt nothing, could do nothing but stare, wide eyed, at Bogo. She had been picked for the task force, and full time too. She couldn't believe it.

Suddenly, time caught up with her, the realization finally taking hold in her mind. She will filled with the most profound happiness. She shook with it, couldn't even reply when Chambois lightly slapped her shoulder and told her, "See? Never say never." She couldn't argue with that. Chambois was right. Never say naver.

"Now that you have your assignments," Bogo said, his stern voice again silencing the room. "I thought it would be good if all of you had a chance to meet our own personal FIB agent. Renard!" he called at the door.

The was a pause, a movement behind the door, two black tipped ears just poking above the bottom of the window. And then it opened.

Whatever Judy had just felt, the anxiety, the disappointment, the fabulous excitement at being selected, all of it. It was nothing. None of it meant anything, as if it had never been there at all. It all paled in comparison to what she felt when she saw the fox who had entered the bullpen.

It was him. The fox that had such a profound impact on her life. The fox that had lied to her and sent her on a wild, and probably illegal, goose chase deep into city archives. The fox that had shown up to her graduation but had not the decency to at least say hello... The fox who had kept her up at night believing he was going to die. The fox who had continued to keep her up once he had gotten better, though for much more pleasant reasons. The fox who gave her that one last push she needed to follow her dream, and sent her a gift that ensured she would make it. Set her on a course to achieve something that no other rabbit had ever even dreamed of. The fox that had believed in her even no one else would. The fox that had meant so much to her.

The fox, Nicholas Wilde.

* * *

 **Well, I hope you enjoyed that. :)**

 **This was sort of a weird chapter for me, parts of it just seemed to flow from my finger tips and others I had to drag out kicking and screaming. I hope that didn't come out in the writing too badly. But it's also a moment in this story that I thought I would be at several chapters ago. I had plans upon plans to get to this moment, but much less about what comes after, so I will need to consider where to go from here. I have created a lot of threads, looking back, and now its time to begin connecting them. I hope that I am up to that task.**

 **To everyone who has read, commented, followed, and favorited, I know I have said this before, but I want to know how much the support I have gotten from everyone means to me. It has been a pleasure to interact with so many of you. As I said at the very beginning of all of this, this story was the first time I had ever attempted to write any sort of fiction beyond some short character backstories for a D &D group that I only ever met with once. Maybe some thing for school too, but you get the picture. **

**There is a lot, I think, that I would do differently if I were to start over, I have learned a lot through this whole process, and that is in part thank to all of you.**

 **Honestly Saving Wilde has become so much bigger than I ever expected it, and I am glad that all of you have been enjoying the ride.**

 **Also, interestingly, I find that I have little trouble writing when I listen to Animal Collective. I don't know why that is.**

 **Now, as for the future, the project I am working on in my day job is beginning to ramp up starting next week, so there is no way I can meet the two week schedule in the near term. After Wednesday I wont even have access to my computer for about a week. I have no intentions of dropping this story, nor do I wish to make any of you wait months and months for an update, but updates will be about as sporadic as they have been as of late.**

 **As always, questions, comments, and feedback of _any_ kind is welcome. I do listen! I think last time someone mentioned that they think my paragraphs are too large. I have tried to tone them down a bit for instance. So please, don't hesitate to get in touch if you wish. Though be sure to log into an account if you have a question. The way the guest comments work on this site is maddening. **

**And lastly, I want to wish you all a happy spring.**

 **Live well my friends!**


	19. Status Update - I'm not dead!

Hello everyone!

I am sorry to keep all of you waiting so long, but I still don't quite have an update for you, I have just been so busy with things out here that I have hardly had the time to write, and when I do hardly the motivation. I am sorry to keep you all waiting so long. :( But, things are beginning to settle down again, or at least I am finally beginning to get used to this new routine.

But, there is hope, I am about half way done with the next chapter, did a bunch of work on it over the weekend, and so things are finally beginning to move along again. I don't have a good timeline for you yet, I am even working on the weekends these days, but I want to have it out by next week sometime. I'll see if I can stick to that, but if I go over a bit, know that the update will be right around the corner.

I hope that you all can forgive my extreme tardiness this time, and I also hope that you have all be doing well!

EO2


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